Bent
by DSBJellyDonuts
Summary: A while back, when discussing the Emma/Neal dynamic, Once's writers posed the question, "...how do two people who love each other come together when there's so much hurt?" This story is my take on a possible answer, set post-322. Swanfire (and Henry.) T for occasional language.
1. Chapter 1

"Bent"

Author's Foreword –

I was really bitterly disappointed in 322 – in all of 3B, really – so this story is, first of all, an attempt to fix it. I don't know where the character of Emma has run off to, but I'd really like her back (pretty sure she disappeared at the same time Neal did.) More than that, though, this story stems from a NEED that I have to see certain conversations between the two of them – ones that they should have had on the show, but they never did.

This story picks up right around the end of 322. The only real changes I've made are to eliminate the introductions of Elsa and Marian to the canvas – just pretend those items didn't happen. Needless to say, this is a SF story, so other characters only float through to serve their tale, but I don't use kid gloves on the two of them, either – the whole point is to work through their junk. It's not always pretty, but I hope the payoff makes it worthwhile in the end.

Last but absolutely not least, a huge (HUGE) thank you to textbookone for serving as my beta reader and consultant. She challenged me to fix certain parts of the tale and write things that I would have rather let be "because plot" to actually make them fit the characters, story, and mythology of Once (or at least Once as it was before it lost its head here in the last 11.) It's a better story for it.

T rating is purely for occasional language.

I hope you enjoy :)

-DSB

* * *

_We're not broken_  
_Just bent_  
_And we can learn to love again_

* * *

**CHAPTER 1**

Emma approached the door to the diner, briefly glancing back over her shoulder and finding herself relieved that the only person in sight was the leather-clad pirate seated on the patio. _At least nobody else had seen what just happened, _she thought_. _Whatever insanity had come over her a few minutes prior had dissipated, and she realized she had been distracted from the important things at hand - her family - for far too long.

As she stood on the front stoop, she was thankful to see her family and the rest of the townsfolk enjoying the baby's coronation party. Her mother caught her eye as she came in the door and she wandered to her booth with a smile.

"How's Henry?" Snow asked, as Emma approached.

"Henry?" Emma asked, confused.

"Yeah, he seemed upset earlier, after we announced the baby's name. I didn't mean for it to upset him…" she trailed off. "I thought you were going after him when you walked out?"

_Shit. Shit, shit, shit, _Emma thought, realizing she'd been completely oblivious to Henry's needs, caught up in her own thoughts, when she ended up outside on the patio.

Blushing slightly, she replied, "No, I, uh… got distracted." She ignored the questions written on Snow's face and turned to go. "Maybe he went back to the room. I'll go see if I can find him there."

* * *

"Henry?" she asked softly, as she opened the door to their room.

She was met with silence as she looked around the darkened room. Walking between the beds, she glanced under the covers and then wandered to the bathroom. No Henry.

She'd just seen Regina at the diner, so he wasn't at her house. After pondering for a minute, it dawned on her where it was he used to go when he was upset: his castle. The structure was no longer there, of course, but perhaps it would be a place to start searching.

A few minutes later she pulled her car into a spot near the space where Henry's beloved playground used to stand. A lone bench was all that remained of the park, illuminated by a single streetlight that stood some distance away, and over the back of the bench she saw the unmistakable mop of brown hair that belonged to her son. He sat facing the beach, his castle no longer blocking the view, as the area where it once had stood was now a barren stretch of sand. He leaned forward and gazed into the ocean, his weight resting on his hands as they grasped the front edge of the bench. The scene was utterly heartbreaking, speaking volumes about the little boy - not so little anymore - whose childhood dreams had been shattered.

Wordlessly, Emma took a seat next to him and mimicked his sightline. Her hand covered his and she gave it a little squeeze as she broke the silence. "Hey."

The corner of his mouth curled up into a false smile, then fell as quickly as it had risen. He didn't even greet her before he begun baring his heart. "It wasn't supposed to be like this, you know. Just this void of nothing… It was supposed to be you, me, Dad in a castle by the beach…" He shook his head. "It's all my fault. I should never have gone to get you. My life wasn't that awful, I know I thought it was but it was really pretty okay… if I had never gone, or if I hadn't given Pan my heart, or – or – if you hadn't had to stay behind with me last year… my Dad would still be alive," he trailed off into a whisper.

"Oh, Henry," she breathed, unaccustomed to seeing her eternally optimistic son so heartbroken. "It's not your fault. You made the decisions that seemed best at the time. Your Dad did the same thing, and saved us all - that's the kind of guy he was, he thought nothing of it, he just did what he needed to do."

Henry's brow furrowed. "What happened to him, anyways - what is it that he did? You just told me he was a hero. I know you think I'm just a kid, but I think I deserve to know what happened to my Dad."

Emma scooted closer to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. "To be honest, I don't know, exactly. From what I can gather, he thought bringing back his father was the best way to get back to us, to get us back to our family. Only, when he did so, to bring him back… the price was his life. He made it back here but then…" she closed her eyes and sighed, memories of that day in the woods washing over her. "He promised he'd watch over us, from somewhere. And he wanted you to know he was a good father. And he was, Henry. He was an amazing father to you. He loved you more than anything."

They sat quietly on the park bench, staring into the dark ocean, for more minutes than they could possibly count. Finally, Henry broke the silence. "I just wish you could have brought him back with you… or done… done something. Something while you were changing the past, to make it turn out differently this time. In all of the time travel movies, the hero always finds a way to make it turn out okay." He looked up at Emma, expecting to get a "life isn't always like the movies" speech - only to see her expression change and her eyes dart to the ground. Surprised, he asked, "Mom?"

She dropped her head, her blonde hair cascading on either side of her face, finally realizing the gravity of her earlier request. In that moment, in the vault, her self-protective habits had kicked in – the same habit that had led her to hope Pan had been lying about Neal the prior year in Neverland. Only this time, she realized - unlike at the caves - that habit had actually held the power to make a difference, it wasn't a simple inconsequential hope. And in convincing Rumplestiltskin to drink the forgetting potion, she had robbed her son of a chance to truly get to know his father.

"Mom?" Henry asked again.

Emma looked at him briefly, before dropping her eyes back downward. She withdrew her arm from his shoulder and wrapped it around herself, her own shoulders slumping now, unwilling to lie to her son again, but unable to tell Henry what she had done. She inhaled, then tried a different tack, hoping perhaps he would let the conversation drop. "Henry, it's getting late – we should get you back to Granny's so you can get to bed."

Henry, being Henry, would not be deterred and asked again. "What happened back there… what aren't you telling me, Mom?"

Emma closed her eyes briefly, and began to try to explain. "I – I-" she faltered, unable to come up with anything to say that would explain the situation to Henry. She inhaled, then let out a shaky breath, and inhaled again, trying to find the courage and the words to explain to Henry what occurred in the last moments before she stepped back through the time portal. Finally, hesitantly, she spoke. "I – I told Rumplestiltskin not to," she mumbled, her gaze still firmly fixed on the ground.

"Not to what?"

"Not to change what happened."

The silence in the moments that followed was deafening. It could not have been but a few seconds before Henry twisted out of her embrace and jumped off of the bench, walking towards the beach – and away from his mother. "Henry-" she began, pleading with her voice for him to hear her out.

It was rare – in either Emma's cursed memories or her real ones - that Henry got angry with her, but when he did, he did not mince words. True to form, he spun on his heel and lit into Emma from several paces away. "You were supposed to bring back the happy endings," he started, his voice breaking with emotion. "You're the savior, you're supposed to make everything okay again. And you're supposed to love me most of all – but you took away my Dad! You could have given him back to me, but you were so mad at him that you made him stay dead."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, standing and closing the gap between the two of them. "I'm so sorry, Henry. I didn't mean to, I didn't think it through, I just – it just happened. I just reacted, I didn't think… I'm so sorry," she repeated again, reaching to pull him into her embrace.

"I don't think this is a thing you can fix by saying sorry," he replied, shrugging out of her grasp and wheeling on her again. "You were mad at Dad for leaving you back then – but this is worse. This is way, way worse."

He stormed towards the car, tugging at the handle on the passenger side. "Can you take me to Regina's? I think I'd like to stay there tonight."

Emma nodded numbly, knowing there was nothing she could say to combat Henry's words. He was hurting, this time at her own hand, and she was completely defenseless against his anger. They drove the few blocks to the mayor's house in silence, Emma running their discussion back over in her mind. As she pulled up to the curb and stopped, she softly asked the only question she could seem to formulate. "How did you know it would be by the beach?"

Henry looked at her, puzzled, "What would be by the beach?"

"The castle," she replied, her voice nearly a whisper.

Henry shrugged. "I dunno, it just seemed right."

She sent him a sad smile, seeing for the millionth time how much of his father he had in him. "You know I love you more than anything, right Henry?"

He weighed his options for a moment before answering, finally opting for a simple, "Yeah, I know," as he got out of the car. The lack of reciprocation was not lost on his mother, who watched him climb the front walk to the only home he'd known for his first decade. Once she'd seen him ushered safely inside, accompanied by a confused wave from Regina, she folded her arms over the steering wheel and allowed a few tears to escape, knowing she had failed her son in an irreparable way. The child had an enormous capacity for forgiveness, but this would take a lot – even from him.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

Twenty minutes later, she slipped up the back stairs at Granny's, thankful that no one was manning the desk. Still clothed, she crawled into bed, and found herself staring at the moonlit ceiling. The day's events swirled throughout her brain – as if her life couldn't get any weirder, she'd changed her parents' history. Somehow that seemed even more bizarre than the storybook tales she had almost accepted as reality. The party, her brother's name, her indiscretion with Hook on the patio – _really, Emma, what were you thinking?_ But the thing that caused her stomach to knot up and her chest to tighten was that last moment with Rumplestiltskin, where with just a few sentences she took a child from his father, a father from his child, and cost herself her own happy ending. The latter was her own doing, the loss the price of the role she'd been unwillingly cast into. But the fact that she'd not thought of Henry in those moments – that she'd not thought of Henry at all on her adventure, really – troubled her more than anything. Caught up in memories of her time with Neal, the presence of Hook, and the drama of her parents, her child had been the furthest thing from her mind. She'd reverted to the Emma Swan of the in-between – that decade after prison, when she had no family, no one to count on, and no one to count on her – the Emma she'd been until Henry found her in Boston. So caught up was she in being the lost little girl, and so relieved to get back to her parents, that she'd lost all of the perspective she'd gained in the years since. Instead, she found herself runnng back to her old crutches of walls and excuses - and gratifying herself with whatever empty pleasure she could get her hands on.

There it was – the guilt that not only had she selfishly stolen any chance of Neal's return, but she'd then buried that guilt by making out with a pirate instead of comforting her child. She'd seen Henry leave the table, but didn't even realize that he was upset – instead allowing herself to get caught up in drowning her guilt in the endorphins of a good make out session. There were a million excuses she could make – would make – to anyone who would listen, but alone in the darkness of her room, she knew they were feeble attempts at justification. The honest fact of the matter was that it was easier to hide on the dark patio - with probably the only other person who benefitted from her selfishness - than it was to admit to her son how immensely she had screwed up. How could she comfort the child when she was largely responsible for his grief? She had gotten exactly what she had asked for, back in Neverland – she'd wished his father dead, and she'd gotten her wish when he died in her arms, that day in the woods. Would true love's kiss have saved him? To have tried it would have been to admit to herself that they might have the enduring love known in the Enchanted Forest as "true love," and that was by far a more terrifying a proposition than losing him. Why his father didn't suggest it, she didn't know, but to be fair he was far from his right mind. And at the portal, again, to allow Rumple to remember – to change the future-past – would be to open herself up to the possibility of getting hurt again.

Neal gone, she could handle. Dead was more final than the decade he'd been gone, of course, but on a day-to-day basis it was much the same. Her Neal had died to her during those months she'd spent in prison; she grieved as Henry grew inside of her and once he was born, she had shut that chapter of her life forever. It wasn't until that day in Manhattan it had been opened again, and if she was honest with herself, she'd spent every opportunity since then trying to slam the book back closed. The hurt that bubbled out of its pages was acute and ever-present, and allowing herself to be vulnerable to that was so much more frightening than the idea of simply living without. She had done both, and couldn't bear the idea of going through that hurt again.

'_What if it hadn't had to be that way, what if you could have been… happy?_' whispered a small voice in the back of her mind. '_What if you could have been a family?_' it persisted. Tears sprang to her eyes, against her will, and she dug her palms into her eyes, angrily wiping them away. "Shut up," she whispered aloud, "It's too late for that now."

She could have had that life she'd wanted – maybe – if she'd let herself. He'd led her home, after all, to her family, and while that knowledge didn't take away the hurt of the past… or the questions of if they could have done it differently, done it together… Neal had accomplished what he'd always set out to do. She had known him but mere hours and he'd handed her the possibility of the one thing she'd always dreamed of. And he knew her well enough to know, on that fateful day in Portland, that finding her parents and her home was something she'd always wished for. She'd never know what it was that August told him to convince him he needed to leave – it was a conversation they never got to have. Yet the path he put her on landed her exactly where he had intended, in the long run… continuing proof that he knew her better than anyone. And that day in the woods, there was that glimmer, just that moment of possibility, that feeling of how it used to be, as they walked and joked comfortably… and then he was gone. It seemed that was always the price of her fate – trying to grasp that good moment, only to get slammed down by the bad ones.

And so there it was, at the portal – she had anticipated the bad moment, expecting that it was going to happen, that allowing the possibility that Neal could return would make things worse, instead of better. But how do you get "worse" than dead, really, than having Henry mourn his father? She alone made it worse, by having Henry mourn not just his father's death at the hands of a villain, but the fact that his mother sealed his fate. Those two were peas in a pod, and she'd managed keep them separated yet again – this time with the permanence of death. She'd never had the chance to tell Neal about Henry before she'd given him up, but later, she'd denied Henry the truth about his father when he asked, and denied Henry's very existence to Neal when given the opportunity, in the bar in Manhattan. Once they'd been given the opportunity to know each other, she could not have asked for someone better or more loyal to co-parent her child with – and yet, she'd denied them that.

Emma rolled over and tucked the covers under her chin, willing herself to let it go and get some sleep. But the memories would not stop churning, and the awful brick in the pit of her stomach simply would not go away. She fell asleep for a brief moment, only to wake up in a cold sweat, nightmares of swirling green portals and declarations of love flashing through her mind.

The more she tried to clear her head and drift off to sleep, the more she turned the day's events – the last year's events, even - around and around in her mind. The churning in her stomach and tightness in her chest were only getting worse, so out of desperation, she reached out to the only person she might be able to talk to about the situation. "You still up?" she texted her former-roommate-turned-mother, hoping she might be up with the baby and available to talk.

Thirty seconds later her phone rang, and it became clear immediately that her mother had, in fact, not been up. "What's wrong, Emma?" she asked sleepily.

"Nothing – nothing - I didn't want to wake you—" she lied.

"Sweetheart, it's the middle of the night. You texted, it was important. What's wrong?"

Snow was met with silence on the other end of the line. "Hang on, I'm coming over."

"No - you don't need to do that. You have a brand new baby, you should get some rest."

"Emma, you're my baby, too, if you need me, I am coming over."

"Please don't," she objected weakly, feeling guilty for rousing her mom.

"Do you want to come here instead?"

Emma sighed. She felt like such a baby, but things were so screwed up and if she'd learned nothing else on her day's journeys, she really just needed her mom. "Okay," she conceded, her voice sounding like a little girl.

"I'll leave the door unlocked," her mother said, as she hung up the phone.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Emma quietly pushed open the door to the loft to find her Mom seated in a rocking chair, near the door, baby brother in arms, murmuring softly to him. "Hey," she whispered, shrugging off her jacket and finding a perch in the corner of the couch.

Snow looked up at her and smiled in greeting before turning her attention back to the fussy baby. She continued to shush him, and before long, his eyes fluttered shut. She walked to the bassinette near the bed, then kissed her son and laid him down to sleep, whispering wishes for sweet dreams to him as she came back into the living area.

"We gotta do something about that," Emma said, as her mother walked back in.

"Hmm?" Snow replied.

"His name. I know you were trying to be sweet, but – it hasn't even been two weeks. It's just gonna keep that wound raw for Henry - every time he hears you talk to the baby – it just makes it hurt again. It reminds us that there's this gaping hole in our lives where his father should be… where he isn't."

"Just for Henry?" Snow asked, and the expression on her daughter's face made the question rhetorical. She didn't press further. "I'll talk to your father," she continued, "maybe we can come up with a nickname."

"Thanks," Emma mumbled absently. As they talked, her mother had curled up in the opposite corner the couch and grabbed a fluffy blanket to throw over both of them. Emma's knees were drawn to her chest as she wrapped her arms around them, chin on her knees.

"You want to talk?" Snow said softly, trying to get to the bottom of the midnight visit while still being mindful of her husband and son sleeping a few feet away.

Emma shook her head no and looked at the floor, avoiding her mother's gaze. Ten seconds later, she looked up to see eyes still locked on her, and she nodded as she felt her resolve fade.

"I screwed up so bad," she whispered.

Snow reached over to place a hand on her arm. "What do you mean, Emma? You said you fixed everything in the past… we're all still here so it looks like you succeeded just fine," she replied with a reassuring smile.

Emma shook her head again and blinked back the tears that were prickling. She would not start crying again, this was getting ridiculous. "I fixed your story. But I – I didn't – there was something else I could have fixed… and I didn't."

Snow cocked her head to the side and pondered for a brief moment. "Neal," she said, softly, simply, as she realized what her daughter was getting at.

Emma bowed her head to her knees as she lost ground in the no-tears war and nodded.

"Tell me about it?" Snow probed gently.

Emma looked back at her mother and began to pour out the tale. She stared at the floor as she explained the unabridged version of the story that she had told the prior night, this time including all of the details and not just the adventuresome ones. Her mother made appropriate sympathetic noises at just the right moments and – for the first time – understood her daughter's true motivation for getting home.

"So I stood there in Gold's vault thing and just thought about what Neal had told me, and how awful it felt when I hugged you and you didn't recognize me and – I knew. I just knew this was home. And when I realized that… I got my magic back. And the portal opened, and Hook stepped through it. And I was about to, too, but – but then Rumplestilskin appeared…" Her eyes got distant as she once again relived the conversation that ensued.

"What happened then, Emma?"

"He asked about his son, he wanted to know what happened once he found him. And I tried to just tell him that Neal forgave him but –" she swallowed hard, "but he pressed for the rest of the details. And so I told him about Neal, I told him that he died and then…" Her red-rimmed eyes lifted to meet her mother's as the story's conclusion tumbled out, "I told him not to change it. I told him to take the forgetting potion and to leave him a hero and not to not try to change it. I told him he might make it worse." Her lip trembled as the tears began to fall, "Mom, how could it possibly be worse? He's gone…"

Instantaneously Snow moved to her daughter's side, cradling her in her arms as she finally cried the tears that should have come weeks prior. Emma finally allowed the stress and grief and guilt to overtake her, shedding her tears in the safety of her mother's arms. After a time, she pulled back and asked pitifully, "What the heck is wrong with me, that I thought it would be better to leave him dead? How can I love someone so much, for so long… and wish him dead?"

"Oh, Emma," Snow replied, struggling to find words to ease her daughter's sadness. "If all you can see is the possibility for more hurt, how would you choose anything else? It sounds like you feel that if he's gone, he can't hurt you anymore." She kissed her daughter's temple. "I wish I could just give you some of my hope, let you see that it doesn't have to be that way."

"But he's gone, Mom. There's no other way for it to be."

"Emma… he is your true love, there is always a way. Haven't you learned anything from your father and I? I crushed his heart to cast the curse - and we were still able to save him."

Emma shook her head. "Why did I inherit your chin instead of your faith? I grew up in the real world, where dead is dead. Even Gold and Regina say that, and they're from… over there. There's nothing to be done."

Snow continued to probe, not convinced. "But yesterday, you could have brought him back…"

"Yes, but that was in the portal," Emma argued.

"How did you open the portal?"

"Zelena…"

Snow interrupted. "No, the portal back home."

"I – I – my magic… the black fairy's wand…"

"Hmm. Isn't that what Gold used to switch Pan and Henry back?"

Emma paused thoughtfully. "I think so…"

"So wouldn't it be in his shop?" Snow pressed further.

"As long as the curse returned it, I guess…" Emma replied, skeptically.

"Well, there you go."

Emma looked at her mother, perplexed. "'There you go?' That's what you've got for me?"

Snow shrugged. "If you can make a time portal with it, why not go back and bring Neal back to the present with you?"

Emma looked at her as if she were crazy. "I'm not… I don't think… I'm not sure you can do that?"

"Emma," Snow began, "You know – you _know_ – that happy endings always begin with hope. When your father and I cast the curse, I _crushed his heart_. It was the hardest thing I've ever done, outside of maybe sending you through that wardrobe. But afterwards, when he was gone, I just had faith that we could save him – we share a heart now, but really, we always did. We tried something crazy, because I _believed_ it would work. I think it's time for you to believe in the power of your love, and in the possibility of your own happy ending. I know you grew up in this world, but we come from a land of magic – and true love is the most powerful magic of all. I've seen Neal, I've seen the way he looks at you, and I've seen the difference in you when he's around. True love – you two have it. Now it's up to you – do you want to let it go? Or do you want to fight for that?"

Emma stared at her mother, listening to her voice the truths that she'd known for some time yet rejected out of fear. It didn't take a genius to know that love that endures time, that outlasts hurt and crosses realms, isn't something you find every day - and hearing her mother say it added weight to that fact. She voiced the only question – the only response – that sprung to mind. "How?"

A gentle smile came to Snow's face, sensing that perhaps she'd sparked that glimmer of hope she knew was hiding somewhere deep inside her daughter. "First, you'll need to figure out how to get him back," and she heard Emma sigh. "That's going to be the easy part, though, sweetie. It's after that the hard work begins – the part where you'll need to be honest with him, and figure out how you two can forge forward _together_."

Another sigh came from Emma, and Snow was pretty sure it was in place of a whiny, _But I don't wanna!_

"Emma, I know feelings don't come easily to you. But of all the people in the world to share with – and of all the times to share what you are really going through – that relationship will be the most worth it." She took her daughter's face in her hands, to make sure she was looking her square in the eye. "You just need to borrow a little bit of my faith, here. I promise you, if you can just be honest – even just a little bit honest – with yourself and with him, it will be more than worth it."

Emma nodded, and Snow released her face so that she could snuggled back up on her shoulder. "Hey, Mom?"

"Hmm?"

"I did one other stupid thing."

Snow closed her eyes to steel herself, thankful that Emma couldn't see the expression on her face at the moment. She opted to reply with a simple, "Hmm?" instead of the more colorful responses that were bouncing around in her mind.

"I, uh… Hook… on the patio…"

"Oh." Snow paused and then, "Ah, that's why you hadn't talked to Henry."

"Yeah, I really screwed that up, too."

"Well, what are you going to do?"

"Apparently, try to retrieve his father from the past… to try to make it up to him."

"Emma," she said, looking down at her now, "that's not what I meant."

"Oh, um…" Another sigh. "I guess I need to apologize for leading him on. I'm sure he'll take it as a sign that I've given into his pursuit."

"Yeah, it probably wasn't your wisest move," came the reply.

"Thanks," she replied, rolling her eyes.

Emma laid back on the couch, then, and Snow stood and tucked the blanket around her. "Night, Emma," she said as she kissed her on the forehead, before padding back across the loft to crawl into her own bed.

"Night Mom," came the whispered reply.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

**A/N – **Thanks to all for the kind words in your reviews. I'm glad to hear that some others are finding the same fulfillment in reading this that I am in writing it. **-DSB**

* * *

Emma woke up, disoriented by the sound of a baby's cry until she realized she was on her parents' couch. The conversation of the night before drifted back to her and she sat up, knowing she had a busy day ahead of her. She grabbed her phone to see the time – just after noon?! How had she slept so late? - and was alarmed to see the red lettering on the screen: "17 missed calls." Oh God, had something happened to Henry? She swiped at the screen in a panic, her heart in her throat, only to find that every last one of them was from Hook. Groaning, she tossed the phone aside, then put her head in her hands, irrationally angry that he had caused her such panic. She'd deal with that later.

"Hey," she said, kissing her mother on the head as she wandered past the recliner where she sat feeding the baby and headed into the kitchen to scrounge up some food.

"Hey Emma," she smiled, glancing up from the tiny bundle in her arms. "Sleep well?"

"Apparently!" Emma replied as she popped a bagel into the toaster. "I can't believe how late I slept! Did David go to the station?"

Snow nodded. "He told me to let you sleep and that he'd take care of things today, not to worry about going in."

"That's sweet of him," Emma replied. "I'll probably still stop by later. Just have a few things to do first."

"Important conversations included, I hope."

Emma sighed. "I woke up to seventeen missed calls from Hook. _Seventeen!_ This is not going to go well."

Snow shook her head, looking up from her now-sleeping son. "Emma, you chose to give him false hope. Now you have to deal with the repercussions of that."

"Gee, thanks, I appreciate the support." She sighed again. "I guess I should call him back."

"You can go upstairs if you'd like some privacy."

Emma shrugged as she pulled out her phone and navigated to the recent calls page. "I told you all of the gory details already, this should be pretty mild."

"Hi," she said, then scrunched up her face at whatever she heard on the other end of the line. "Um, ok. But, um, we need to talk. At the docks? Sure, give me maybe like an hour? Ok… see you then… uh… okbye." She rolled her eyes as she hung up the phone, then closed them as she tapped herself in the forehead with the phone. "Crap…" she said under her breath in a dismayed tone. Then, looking at her mother, "I really screwed this up. He seems to think we're at the start of a happily ever after."

Sympathetically, Snow smiled. "Your father would probably be the better one to give advice in this situation, he had to let Kathryn down on more than one occasion. All I can say is, you need to be honest with him, and Emma – don't lead him on any more. I may not like the guy, but he clearly has feelings for you, and there's no need to be cruel."

She grabbed her jacket and headed for the door as she replied. "I have no intention of being cruel – I just want to put the whole thing behind me... Off to the docks I go!" As she exited, she muttered, "And then perhaps I'll see a man about a portal."

Snow tried to hide her smile as she pretended not to hear the last portion, instead calling after her – "Emma, you forgot your bagel!" – a plea answered only with the resounding click of the door.

* * *

A few minutes later, Emma arrived back at Granny's and hopped into the shower, needing to grab a fresh change of clothes after her impromptu mother-daughter slumber party. She finished and was drying her hair when she heard a noise at the door and stiffened, only to see it open seconds later as Henry stepped into the room. "Oh… hi Mom," he said, clearly not expecting her to be around.

"Hey kid," she smiled, relieved to see that he walked over to greet her with a hug. "Did you have a good night with Regina?"

He nodded. "I just stopped off to grab a few things before I headed back over."

Emma tried to hide her hurt and disappointment. "Oh, okay," she replied, "You're planning to stay there again tonight?"

"For a while, I think, yeah."

There was no hiding the frown that stemmed from hearing that news, but she couldn't say she held it against the kid. "If you want, I can drop you back over there, I'm heading to the docks in a few minutes myself."

"Meeting Hook?" he replied, and the displeasure in the seemingly innocent question was evident.

"Yeah," she said, looking at her shoes instead of her son.

"I don't like him for you, Mom," Henry asserted. "When I was hanging out with him, when I was cursed, he was fun and all but… he did some stuff that was definitely not hero-worthy."

Emma put her brush down and turned to face her son fully. "What are you talking about, Henry?"

"Like when I was going to take the car to get back to New York, but he tried to put me on a boat with Smee instead or –"

"Wait - you were going to steal my car?!" she interjected, simultaneously appalled and amused.

"Well not steal, exactly, just – borrow. Just to get to the bus station."

"Henry," she said, trying her damndest not to let the corner of her mouth quirk up into a smile. His behavior was, of course, unacceptable – yet all she could think was, _Neal Cassidy, we made a car thief_. Somehow she should not have been surprised. "That's still not okay. First of all, you can't drive, and second of all - I thought we went over this stealing thing, way back when, with your grandmother's credit card?"

"I did ask you for the keys," he said, "So _technically_ it wasn't stealing…"

She put her hand to her head, shaking it. "Your father would be so proud," she whispered under her breath, before responding to the preteen. "Henry! You know better than that."

"Well anyways," he retorted, trying to change the subject. "There was that, and the time he taught me to cheat with dice…"

"He taught you to cheat?"

"Yeah, he told me the secret to winning was loaded dice. I told him it was cheating, but he just told me that the point was that you'd win… That's not how the good guys win, Mom. He's not a hero." He paused and scuffed a toe into the carpet before continuing in a sullen manner. "My Dad was a hero. Even Walsh was okay. Hook's… not. He's not good for you."

"C'mere, kid," she said, sitting on the edge of the bed and gesturing for him to sit with her. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "First of all, when someone tells you to do something that you know is not right, you need to tell me about it… not keep hanging out with them. I don't want to see you go down the same path your father and I did. You are far too smart for that." She paused and gave him a stern look. "And second of all… I agree with you. Hook's not the right guy for me. I just need to go convince _him_ of that." She took a moment to consider her next statement, and then continued, "And knowing he's been corrupting you makes it all the more clear."

She gave him a squeeze as she stood up. "C'mon, kid. I gotta get going, do you want that ride, or not?"

"Yeah, hang on," he said, throwing a few things into his backpack. He walked out the door in front of her, leaving his mom to trail behind, muttering under her breath, "Asked for the keys so he could steal the car. How DOES he know this stuff?"

* * *

"Hey," Emma said, upon arriving at the docks to find Hook watching the boats rise and fall upon the mild Maine waves.

"Hello, love!" he visibly brightened as he approached her and leaned in for a kiss.

She stepped back, placing a hand in the center of his chest and putting some pressure there in order to keep a reasonable distance between them. "Um, hi. Listen, about last night… we need to talk."

"Ah yes," he replied, "You finally saw the way of my wiles."

"I… no. Here's the thing, Hook. I may have kissed you last night, but that was wrong of me."

"What? No, I think you finally saw what I've been offering you all along."

"No," she shook her head. "I have a bad habit…" she sighed, "of burying my true feelings, and reacting rashly. It's the same as what happened in Neverland, I ran from my emotions and straight into your arms. It's not fair to you, and I'm sorry."

"Emma, that kiss made it perfectly clear to me that you feel exactly as I do…" he began, before she interrupted.

"No, Hook – I don't. Or maybe I do, actually. I don't love you, I'm sure of that - but I'm not sure you really love me. I think you just love the idea of me, the pursuit, and the concept you have of our constant adventures… but that's not what I want from life. You love the idea of another Milah. But here's the thing. I'm not Milah, I'm me – and you… you're not Neal." She smiled sadly. "Did you ever notice that both times I've given in to you, he's been dead? That right there should tell you there is something not right with this picture."

She gave him a moment to reply, but when he merely stared at her, she continued, a bit fired up now. "I realized something, last night. I've had my one true love, and I squandered it. The price of being the savior, I guess. And in time, maybe I could find another love… but it has to be built on honesty and trust. That's something you and I don't have. You declared you would win my heart, and then you set out to do just that, without giving a damn about my feelings on the matter. The constant innuendos, they're flattering and all, but that's not respect. I'm not some prize trophy wench to win – in this world women have feelings and autonomy and you totally disregarded mine. You haven't listened to me, you didn't listen when I said I wasn't interested, instead of backing off and being a friend, you just kept on pushing. That's not how I want to be treated in a relationship. So there is no us – there will never be an us in the future, either. There won't. You need to let it go."

As she spoke, his expression changed to something halfway between a frown and a pout. "There's nothing I can say to change your mind?"

"No. I should have said this long ago." A pause and then softly, "Go get your ship back, Hook. That's your true love."

"Aye," he replied sadly. "I just hope I don't have to kill a man for her this time."

Emma chuckled, amused by his joke. Until she looked up and realized he wasn't laughing with her.

"You're – serious? This was, like, hundreds of years ago, right?" she said, aghast.

"Afraid not, love. Had to get it back during the year we were all away."

"You let a man die for your ship?"

"I _am_ a pirate…"

She clenched her jaw in anger. "You're disgusting. You claim to have changed, but you kill people, you lie to me, you teach my child to steal and cheat…"

"I could have changed. I could have changed for you."

She shook her head. "You should change for YOU, not because you want to be with someone. As long as you do that, you'll never change. You'll always be that same, selfish pirate, only out for himself – for his ship, for his revenge. For the person he thinks will make him happy, without even really knowing who she is. You don't know me Hook, you don't know the first damn thing about me, because if you did you'd know why this" she gestured to the two of them "would never work."

He glared at her, that thin line they say separates love and hate suddenly dissolved. "Thank you," he replied bitterly, "For reminding me what I'm all about."

He started to walk off, towards the boats in the harbor, then turned back, a moment of conscience upon him. "Your lad is much like his father. Don't let that drive a wedge between you two. I loved Bae, once upon a time – he reminded me very much of Milah. And in the end that's why I turned him over, it hurt too much to be reminded of her every time I looked at him."

"You turned Neal over to the Lost Boys? You – _you_ sentenced him to that hell he lived on Neverland?"

"Aye," he said, his eyes downcast.

"Get out," she said, the final straw piled on. "Get out of my town – and stay away from Henry."

She watched him as he surveyed a boat, unmoored it, and sailed out of the harbor. Through her anger, as she stood, she puzzled over his words. Henry was certainly the spitting image of his father, but what did either of them have to do with Milah?


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N - Thanks, again, to all for the reviews - I am so glad you are all enjoying the story! I was especially heartened to see that I wasn't alone in some of the viewpoints in my last chapter. Here's #4 - enjoy! :)**

**A/N 2 - I forgot to mention, I owe a HUGE thanks to not only textbookone (who is my go-to beta on each and every chapter,) but also to EmpressSilverSky for critiquing this one for me. They were a huge help and I appreciate it sincerely! :)**

**CHAPTER 4**

Emma entered the shop to the tinkering of the bell, only to find the storefront empty. "Gold?" she called out, searching for the proprietor as she headed towards the back room where she knew he often spent his time.

"In here, dearie," he replied, not bothering to get up from the table where he sat, repairing a clock.

Knowing better than to mince words with the man who could have been her father in law, she skipped the niceties and got straight to the point. "I need your help."

"You want to make a deal with me?" he raised his eyebrow. "You know I'll have my price."

She nodded. "I'm looking for the same deal we had last time - except instead of ensuring that Ashley doesn't lose her child, it's so I don't lose my own."

He paused for a moment, considering the implications of her request. "It's for Henry? There will be no price to help Bae's son." Another pause as his voice dropped, "Besides, the deal we had last time had a price that you can no longer offer."

"To lead you to your son?" she queried.

"We both know that's impossible, Miss Swan." If it was anyone other than Emma trifling with Bae's memory, they would have found their life in peril. However, having been witness to… whatever exactly it was that the two of them shared, and knowing how important she was to his son, he was willing to hear her out - at least for a moment.

She smiled, a crooked smile. "The deal stands, complete with the price. You help me keep my child, I lead you to yours."

He bristled, his patience thin. "And how exactly do you propose to do that, dearie?"

She thought, turned on her heel, and walked a few steps away, then turned back around to face him as she stepped towards him once again, pondering how to explain her proposal. "Can I ask you something? Do you remember meeting me before?"

"Before…"

"Before, before. Before we met." She chewed on her lip, hoping that maybe, perhaps, she would not have to discuss her foolish decision yet again – that maybe, somewhere along the line, between curses and portals and true love's kisses, that forgetting potion had been reversed.

"Miss Swan, I have no idea what you are talking about."

No such luck. "Do you remember meeting me before the night I arrived in Storybrooke?"

His brow narrowed, as he searched his memories. "No. You were the savior, I am quite certain I would have remembered meeting you."

She mustered up a thin, false smile, her hope of an easy sell fading. "Right. Okay. I still need your help – so do we have a deal? You help me with my son, I'll help you retrieve yours."

"Retrieve him?" His voice rose as he thought for a minute, stalling, trying to control his temper and figure out exactly what game she was playing. She seemed to have a secret she was not willing to share and it was starting to wear on his nerves, not having the upper hand. He tried a different tack. "You want to retrieve my son, despite your dalliance with the pirate?"

"That was an error in judgment. A moment of misdirected grief. It won't be happening again."

Rumple smiled, though the expression was far from friendly. "I found the pirate to be a curious choice, given the history with Milah."

"It's weird that I'd consider a guy with his dead girlfriend's name tattooed on him?"

He paused, taken aback at Emma's apparent lack of understanding of the situation. "You didn't know about Milah?"

"That she was his one great love?"

"That she was Baelfire's mother."

The dropping of a pin would have been a cacophony in the silence that followed. Rumple wasn't sure which he was more amused by, Emma's stunned silence or the horrified expression on her face. A few moments passed before she spoke, an appalled whisper, "_Hook's_ Milah was _Neal's_ mother?"

Rumple chuckled. "Ah, Miss Swan, how did that never come up in all of your deep conversations with the pirate? I presume he never told you how he lost his hand, either."

She pressed her lips together, angry now. "There were no deep discussions. And he sure as hell didn't tell me he was responsible for destroying Neal's family." So many pieces of the last years suddenly made sense, the weird tensions between the three men, as this crucial piece of the puzzle clicked into place.

Rumple's expression remained stoic, but the light in his eyes betrayed him, not sorry for driving the final wedge into the relationship-that-wasn't. "Well that certainly would not have aided him in winning your heart, now would it have," he mocked. The glare she shot his way signaled that perhaps the discussion was best taken in another direction. "Well then, back to the reason for your visit. This deal – if it was anyone but you playing with my son's memory, I would have squashed them like a snail. How on earth do you propose to take me to Bae, when he is no longer here with us?"

She inhaled, shaking off the anger lingering from before the turn in the conversation. "Do you still have the black fairy's wand?"

"That magic is not to be trifled with," he replied, with darkening eyes.

"Do you have it?" she replied sharply.

"For what purpose do you want it?"

She inhaled. "I was told – once – that it could be used to re-create any magic that had ever been used. Is that true?"

His eyes narrowed further, his ire rapidly returning. "It is."

"I think I know how to bring him back."

"You can't bring back the dead!" Rumple exclaimed, his emotions getting the best of him. He took a breath and regained a bit of control before continuing, "It's against the laws of magic."

"They say you can't change the past, either, but I did it. Yesterday."

The revelation caused Rumple's eyes to pop open in surprise. "You did what?"

"Whatever the witch did, after she… disintegrated… her magic opened a portal to the past. I got sucked in, with Hook."

"What have you done?!"

"We did nothing – we fixed what we did. But that wand, that wand is how we got back. I'd like to do it again."

"Is that why you'd asked if we'd met before," he replied, suspicious once again. "Did we meet in the past?"

Her eyes dropped. "We did."

"And what did we discuss, dearie?"

"I – I came to you for help."

"And?"

"You helped me." She offered as few words as possible, hoping to avoid the wrath she knew would ensue once Rumplestiltskin learned what she had done.

"Is that all?"

"You asked about your son."

"I expect that I would have. Why don't I remember this?"

"You took a forgetting potion."

Rumple sighed, inclined to disbelieve her. "And why would I do that?"

"Because I told you your son was dead," she cringed. "And that you should let him stay – stay a hero-"

"Well, that doesn't sound much like me!" he snapped in anger. "You told me Bae was dead and I did nothing to change it?"

"I know it doesn't!" she threw back. "I don't know why you listened! But I – I begged you to let him be, not to change anything, not to make it worse. So you took the potion. I don't know why, I don't get why, but you did! If it wasn't true, if I hadn't said that – if I didn't need to fix it - why else would I be telling you this, here, now?"

"You betrayed my son! Just like Milah – she abandoned him for that pirate. _You_ abandoned him for that pirate. And now you want me to help you fix it?" he snarled. "What happened for you to so quickly change your mind? Lovers quarrel already?"

"Hook is _not_ my lover!" she fired back. The pawnbroker's eyes were ablaze with a dangerous fury, and she knew she was very near losing any chance at cooperation she might have hoped for. She bit her lip then, wanting nothing more than to hide her emotions from her former mentor, but knowing that at this point the only way he would help her was with the full and honest truth. She took a deep breath to steady her emotions, to gather the courage to play the only card she had left that might get him to agree to her scheme. "I told you, yesterday – thirty years ago – at the portal – that I loved your son, too. It was a lie. I love him, no past tense, and it was wrong of me to keep him away from you – away from Henry – to deny him his chance at family. He got me home, and I left him dead." She let out a shuddered, shaky breath. "I need to fix that."

Rumple frowned, her answer catching him off guard, and took a moment to consider both her motives and her theory. If her plan allowed him the opportunity to once again be reunited with his son, it was a bit too tempting to not consider it, and so he tugged his anger back under control. He stepped forward, cautiously, with a question. "What makes you think that if you reconjured this spell, you would end up somewhere my son is?"

She allowed herself a small smile, reading his question as a victory. "I have a theory. It's essentially a portal, right? And portals require a directional item, right? So if someone was trying to reach someone else an item important to both parties would probably do it…"

"And you have such an item?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

She held up her hand with a smile, unravelling several fingers and allowing a necklace to dangle down.

"Ah," he said, recognizing the pendant from that awful day in the woods. A small smile crept onto his face; the girl was clever – there was a reason she was one of very few people who could spar with him. "A reasonable theory…"

"So you'll help me? I can use the wand?"

He sighed, his eyes narrowed. "We need a thorough plan, dearie. We can't just pop in and out of time portals at will."

"We?"

"_If_ I agree to assist you, you won't be going through alone. I won't allow it, there's no telling what mess you would make of that. My proviso is that we step through the portal together, AFTER we decide how to proceed. So do we have a deal?"

Her eyes narrowed, regarding the man whose penchant for deals reached far beyond her understanding. There was a reason he always dealt with desperate souls; this time she was fortunate in that his desperation mirrored her own. "I think I can make that deal."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N – Thanks as always for the reviews, follows, etc! I'm anxious to hear what you all think about this chapter. Continuing perpetual thanks to textbookone for her vital beta reads!

**Chapter 5**

Ten minutes later, the duo was seated in the back office, calmer heads prevailing. Emma spoke first, asking, "Okay, what's your plan?"

"When you went back in time before, do you know why you ended up going back thirty years?"

"I think it was because I had my parents' story on my mind… Henry was reading it in the diner."

"Emotion fuels magic, why not portals?" he mused.

"Should we be thinking of the same place, then, to take us back to him?"

"Indeed." He thought for a moment, then continued. "If we go back to immediately before his death, it seems there would be fewer… repercussions… than if we pulled him out of time sooner."

"To the vault?"

"Yes," he said tentatively, nodding slowly as he pondered the implications of that action. "If we end up at the vault," he continued, "It's imperative that we get to him before he places the key in it. Once the transaction has begun, I am powerless to counteract it."

"Okay," she replied, shuddering as she thought of the alternative. "And then what happens to you, if Neal doesn't… bring you back or whatever?"

"Since it's never been done, it's hard to say," he mused, "But I would imagine all will go back as it should have, and I will again be undone."

"Are you going to be okay with that?"

"For Bae… I sacrificed myself the first time for him. If that sacrifice need stand, I won't try to circumvent it. For my son's life, it would be worth it.

She eyed him doubtfully, but he ignored her and continued on.

"Once we have completed our task, we'll want to return to the present as quickly as possible, so that we alter as few things as possible."

Emma nodded, then begun to stand, anxious to get the journey underway.

"Ah, one last item, Miss Swan" he finished, holding up a finger to halt her movement. "If we run into a problem, you defer to my judgment."

"Like hell," she growled. "I'm not a child who needs to be parented."

"My wand, my rules," he stated in a warning tone.

"My idea!" she raised her voice.

"My son," he countered, increasing his volume to nearly a yell.

"My—" she hesitated. "Oh, hell," she said, realizing she wasn't willing to win this one. "Fine."

"And need I remind you, dearie, that in the Enchanted Forest I have use of my full magical facilities. If this little rescue mission goes south, it is you I am holding accountable, and it is you who will bear the repercussions. Understood?"

She nodded, for the first time questioning the wisdom of her plan. Before she could respond, he stood and limped to his safe, from which he retrieved the wand. He returned and passed it to Emma and looked at her expectantly. "Well?"

She looked back at him, holding the wand as if it might bite her. "How do I…"

"Well I don't know, you told me you just did this yesterday. How did you do it then?"

She sighed. "I thought of Neal, and I thought of… home."

"Magic is driven by emotion, dearie."

She closed her eyes, thinking of park swings and yellow cars, lunches that weren't, town lines, and promises of home. She felt the wand come alive in her hand and the telltale vertical vortex appeared before her. "Shall we?" she asked her benefactor.

Together they stepped through the portal to another time.

* * *

"Oof," Emma said, falling forward onto the ground. She looked right to see the feet of Rumplestiltskin, planted firmly beside her. "How do you stay upright through all of that?" she asked, annoyed.

"Practice," he chuckled, and as she stood she caught sight of his face for the first time since their landing.

"Oh, God," she said, "Your face – it's that weird grey-green again…"

"Yes, yes," he deflected, waving his hand in true Dark One fashion. "It's the curse. Still active any time I come to the Enchanted Forest."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course it is," she mumbled. Straightening, she took a look around. "Where the hell are we, Gold?"

"Not far from my grounds," he replied dismissively. "The more imperative question is, when?"

"Well," said Emma, "How often has Neal been to your castle?"

"Just the once, so far as I know," Rumplestiltskin replied.

Emma thought for a moment. "Didn't he go there before he went to Neverland?"

"Did he?"

"I think it's where he caught the Shadow."

Rumple closed his eyes and thought for a moment, trying to discern the most likely location to find his precious son. "This way," he stated, indicating the direction with a tilt of his head before he began to walk.

"Where are we going?" she asked, none-too-gently.

"To Bae," he replied.

"How do you-"

She was interrupted by a "Shh!" as his hand flew in front of her body to stop her motion. "Listen."

Ever so faintly, she heard voices in the background.

"To hell with the cost," she zeroed in on Neal saying. She could tell that Belle replied, but her softer voice did not carry as well. Emma began walking again, picking up the pace, and could tell that there was a clearing at the top of the small rise that lay just ahead. Just before she crested the hill, she heard yelling – first Belle's voice, instructing Neal to wait, and then Neal himself, in a yelp of pain. Instinctively, she tried to burst into the clearing, but found that she was being held back by a force much stronger than human hands.

"What the hell?!" she exclaimed, as she turned to Rumple. "Let me go! I need to get to him."

"No," Rumple replied. "You can't go up there right now. He's already put the key in… now we need to let this play out without interfering." He paused and then, "I've put… precautions in place so that we might have a chance to alter the outcome. But not just yet."

Emma, still struggling against the magical grip, turned back to find she could get just enough leeway out of the spell to catch an obstructed view of what was happening. Her eyes widened in astonishment as she watched a figure rise up out of the center of the clearing, covered in a thick, black goo – then grew further disturbed as she realized it was the doppelganger of the man standing to her left. "You rose out of goo?!" she squeaked.

"It's the vault of the Dark One… did you expect it to be pretty?"

Her only reply was the expression on her face, continuing to watch the scene in the clearing, horrified.

The duo stood and watched as the Dark One in the clearing went and scooped up his dying son, then released the dagger in lieu of letting go of him. However, as he tried to absorb him, he found a shield of sorts causing them both to remain separated. As Neal slowly slipped from consciousness, Zelena cackled over his misfortune and then turned her attention to Belle as she attempted to wield her newfound power by instructing the Dark One to kill his true love. They could see Belle flee, running in the opposite direction of their post, as the Dark One resisted the pull of his curse.

Once he saw that Belle had safely fled the clearing, Rumple looked back at Emma and gave her a nod. "It's time."

He reached up and grabbed a nearby treebranch, causing it to break with a loud snap, startling Zelena. "It seems that's our cue to depart," she addressed her newfound puppet, and began to transport them out of the area, leaving Neal to tumble onto the ground where his father had sat moments before.

As Emma watched Zelena and the recently-reborn Dark One poof off in a puff of angry green smoke, the sight of Neal lying near-death, alone in the woods was almost too much for Emma to bear. She looked at Rumple with accusatory anger and finally found her voice. "You made it worse!" she cried, and as she felt the magical barrier subside, she broke out of its grasp and ran to the dying man's side. _To hell with the cost, indeed_.

"Emma?" Neal gasped in confusion as she knelt on the ground next to his head. "I thought –"

"Shh," she said, as she cradled him in her arms. "It's a long story, so very long, we don't have time for it now." She smiled gently, trying to reassure him, while fighting back the cries in her mind of, _No, no, not again! _"I just need you to hang on for me, Neal, don't leave me, okay?"

"I just – I just needed to get back to you and Henry," he breathed, his voice weakening as his eyes fluttered shut. "I thought my father could do it."

"Shh," she said again, holding him tighter. Looking up at his father, who had arrived at her side, she asked pleadingly, "There's nothing you can do?"

Rumple shook his head, resigned but without the sadness she expected. "No," he said, "As I told you before we came, my magic is powerless to overcome this curse."

_There must be a "but,"_ she thought, _that sentence needed to have a "but" at the end of it._ She looked up at him imploringly, yet no "but" came. She closed her eyes and brought her forehead down to Neal's, her tears wetting his hair as she considered the impossibility of watching the one you love die in front of you on not one, not two, but three separate occasions. It took a special talent, her inherent sarcasm reminded her.

Dread filled her as his breathing became increasingly shallow, and by this time Rumple was kneeling next to her, grasping one of Bae's hands in his own. Immense guilt began to wash over Emma; she'd not only sealed Neal's fate for the millionth time, but brought his father to experience his death once more. As she pulled Neal closer still, her mother's voice suddenly rang in her ears, _"There's always another way."_

"There's always another way," she whispered into the air, and then, to Rumplestiltskin, "I just have to have faith." She caught the slightest lift at the corner of his mouth, as if he knew where the conversation was headed. "The only magic powerful enough to transcend realms," she mused, her hand absentmindedly grasping at the pendant at her neck, "and to break any curse."

She stared at some invisible point deep in the forest, as if contemplating her belief in the subject, or pondering some theoretical notion and trying to assess its validity. Her concentration was broken by her traveling companion, not one to be long on words, urging her forward, "Well, you should probably get on with it, dearie. We haven't much time." He was pleased she'd found faith in her own magic without his prompting, but her expediency left something to be desired.

The brash reminder of the reality of their situation brought her back to the matter at hand, and she leaned further toward her love before becoming acutely aware that his father was mere inches away. "Could you – do you mind – some privacy, maybe," she snapped, and uncharacteristically the man stood without protest, giving them a few feet of space. She bent again and breathed out, barely a whisper, "I love you," as she kissed her true love for the first time since he'd broken her heart all of those years prior.

For an eternal, terrifying moment, nothing happened and all of her doubts rushed forward. It was too late – it wasn't true love – this wasn't a curse she could save him from. But then, just as she had with Henry, she heard that horrible, wonderful gasping sound and the light came back to his eyes. She bent to kiss him again, and this time it was far more animated. As they pulled away, she couldn't help but let out a relieved laugh. "You have to stop scaring me like that, okay? Don't you ever do that to me again!"

Neal smiled at her, her favorite crooked smile, but the moment was broken as his father once again returned to his side. "Papa?" he asked, struggling to sit up, "Has Zelena sent you to-"

"She doesn't have control of me, Bae," Rumplestiltskin replied reassuringly, before embracing his son and shedding tears he didn't realize he'd been holding back. "My boy, you're back, you're alive!"

"You always were the king of loopholes," he replied, feeling as if he should be angry but unable to conjure the emotion. "I told Belle – wait, Belle, where is she?"

"She fled," Emma said, plainly. "Listen, Neal, there's something we have to tell you – you're not going to like it. But we've gotta go, so come walk with us and I'll explain on the way. It's not safe here."

"What is it?" he asked, brow furrowed. "How did you get here anyways?"

"Um," Emma began, looking up at Rumplestiltskin, "Through a portal from… the future?"

Neal went pale. "You can't – that's not – that's impossible."

Emma sighed. "Turns out, not so much. I've done it twice now." She winced involuntarily. "This time seems to have been much more successful than the first. Now seriously, come on. We gotta go."

"Just a moment, Miss Swan," Rumplestiltskin interjected, furrowing his brow. "There's something else we need to do first."

She looked at him, annoyance clear on her face. "I thought the goal was to get him and get out as quickly as possible?"

"Yes, but it seems our goal needs to be flexible. Saving my son, it seems, has had some other effects on the timeline - I'm seeing some changes in the future that we need to counteract. Tell me, how did you return to Storybrooke?"

"Hook came and got me."

"He wasn't with the rest of the town at the time of the curse. How did he know to do that?"

"He said he got a message via bird, telling him to come find me, and with a bottle of memory potion tied to its leg. He wasn't sure who sent it… and actually, no one ever did confess to it…" The wheels began to turn in her head, and all eyes went to Neal.

"Don't look at me guys, whatever you think I did in the future or past or whatever, I haven't done it yet. I'm not Marty McFly here, this is the only reality I've gone through."

"It had to be," Emma said. "Who else would send Hook to get me?"

Rumple thought for a moment. "When did he get the potion?"

"Just before the curse hit. He – he said he outran it," she stammered, uncomfortably recalling the conversation the two had had on the patio.

"Well then, dearies, it looks like we're off to the castle so that I can leave a message for myself… so that I can send you a potion once the curse is underway."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N – Sorry it's been so long, I was on vacation last week and did not get it to my wonderful beta reader in a timely manner! Hopefully I'll be back to posting schedule this week. Thanks as always for your readership and support – hope you enjoy! :)**

**CHAPTER 6**

Emma and Neal weren't quite sure what exactly he'd done, but Rumplestiltskin insisted he'd left a message for his alter ego amidst the magical objects at the Dark Castle.

"You're sure you'll find it?" Emma asked, doubtfully.

"Why do you doubt my plans, dearie? Three hundred years of scheming and I still haven't earned your trust?"

She shot a sidelong glance at Neal, who shrugged. "If he says he's got it under control, I'm sure he's got it handled."

"Okay," she conceded. "To home, then?"

"Indeed," Rumple replied, producing the wand from his sleeve and extending it towards her. "Lead the way."

She grasped it, and squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to conjure the spell.

As a moment passed where nothing happened, Rumple chided, "Emotion, remember?"

She squinted a single eye open at him, shooting him a modified glare, and responded with her jaw clenched. "What does it look like I am _trying_ to do?"

Neal stifled a chuckle, resisting the temptation to tease her about the ridiculousness of the whole thing. Instead he offered, "Emma, what are you trying to poof us back to?"

"What? No, I'm not poofing us anywhere. I need to open the portal to get back home… get us back to _Henry_." With that, the wand came alive and sprung open the now-familiar sight of the time portal.

Neal stepped back, unsure about the swirling abyss that appeared before them. "Uh, guys? Portals and I don't really get along. I'm not so sure this is a good idea. Can we talk about it for a minute?"

Emma looked at his father, her eyes widening in panic. They were so close, and now Neal wanted to get cold feet?

"Son, these things don't stay open forever."

"I know but –"

Emma interrupted. "No buts, Neal, this is the only way. Come on, we'll all go through together." Still skittish, he stepped back slightly from the portal. "Seriously, Neal, you can't stay here. You'll mess with the timeline and I have no idea what will happen. You'd probably end up dead again, and all of this will have been for nothing. Please, just come on through with us."

She shot a pleading look at his father, who offered his hand. "Son, I know you and I don't have the best history with portals, but this won't be a repeat of last time. Take my hand, I'll step through first and I swear I won't let go of you."

Neal locked eyes with his father, weighing centuries of distrust against the events of the prior year. After a long moment, he nodded sharply, then looked back at Emma, who sent him a tight smile. "I'm right behind you," she reassured him, before he gripped his father's hand and followed him through the vortex that was not unlike the one that had been at the heart of so many of his nightmares. True to her word, Emma followed directly on his heels as the portal snapped shut behind them.

* * *

Moments later, the trio stumbled back into the back room of the pawn shop, as if no time had passed since the two had left. As they steadied on their feet, Neal looked around in shock. He blinked twice, then a third time. "Emma?" he stated, shakily. "_Papa_?" A breath and then, "What happened?"

"Um," Emma stalled, shooting a look at Rumplestiltskin. He merely raised his eyebrows, as if to say, _It was your idea, you sort it out_.

Neal piped up again. "I mean, I know we were at the vault, just now, but now we're here in the shop… are we in the past? Or is Storybrooke somehow back?"

"Yes, it's back. We came through to where we left from. It's about… a year later, now." Emma glanced at Rumple. "Will there be ill effects to him from that missing year?"

Rumplestiltskin shrugged. "Never been done before, dearie, how should I know?" Emma scowled, but he continued. "You knew the risks involved when I agreed to this."

"Yes," she said hesitantly. "They were worth it." She cast a sidelong glance at a very confused Neal. "At least I think they were... um… how you feeling there Neal?"

Neal shrugged. "Fine… normal? What's all this about, anyways? Why the need for the portal… and _time travel_? I thought that was against the rules. And what did that witch want, anyway?"

Emma shot another glance at his father, who took pity on her this time. "Me," he said simply. "She wanted you to bring me back so that she could control me. When you did so, the price was your life."

Neal's brow furrowed. "Okay, but Emma saved me, right?" he said, as he shot her an appreciative smile. "I told Belle you'd have a loophole." A pause and then, "How did Emma get to the Enchanted Forest? How did she remember… anything?"

"Originally that set of events played out much differently, my boy. After you collapsed, the only way I had to keep you from dying was to absorb you – and so Zelena captured us both. Eventually, the dark curse was cast again, which got us back here to Storybrooke, and Emma was brought back in hopes that she could again play savior. She separated us - and then the price was paid."

"The price?" Neal asked, his voice dropping as he recalled the thousand and one reasons he'd run away from this magical business in the first place.

"You died, Neal," Emma said matter-of-factly, willing herself to stave off any emotion as they recounted the story.

"Oh," he said, taken aback now, his confusion returning. "But… now I'm alive?"

"Yes," his father replied, "And hopefully you'll stay that way. The witch has been defeated, but not without accomplishing the time travel spell she set out to cast. We hijacked it in order to… retrieve you from the past."

"Oh," Neal said, still a bit stymied about the whole situation. "Well I – I guess I should say thanks? For bringing me back, or whatever," he continued, looking between his two rescuers.

"It was Miss Swan's idea," his father supplied, causing Neal to look at her in surprise.

"Really?"

She shrugged. "My mother suggested that if there's a will, there's a way. Looks like she was right." She turned to Rumplestiltskin and gestured. "Yesterday, I fell into Zelena's time portal, and your Dad used the wand to help me get back home. Well, he did and I guess you did – anyways – it's a long story. I thought maybe we could use it again, and I guess it worked."

"So, what, you just fall into time portals now?" Neal laughed, unable to resist teasing her about the absurdity of the situation.

"Very funny, Cassidy. Maybe don't tease the people who just saved your life about how they chose to do it?"

"Fair enough," he retorted.

Emma couldn't help but allow a grin to slip through, feeling more secure that their mission had been accomplished with each passing moment. Then a thought occurred to her, a sudden panic. "Neal, let me see your hands."

He raised an eyebrow as he held them out to her. She turned both palms-up, holding her breath as she recalled the branding that had signaled his demise weeks earlier. Relief spread through her as she found both hands to be free from any markings or indication that anything had ever been there, running her thumbs over them to be certain. The relief was quickly followed up by another feeling as she realized she was standing there idly holding his hands, causing her to instantaneously drop them. He shot her a look - _What was that all about?_ - as she felt her cheeks began to burn.

"That burn mark the key left, it's – it's gone. That's good. Hopefully that means you're okay," she stammered.

"Huh. Yeah, it is," he said, lifting both hands to look at them himself. A moment of awkward silence stood between the two, as his father stood unnoticed in the background, observing their interplay. Emma glanced at him, and seized the opportunity to make a quick escape.

"How about if I go up front and give you two a minute?" she offered.

"Thank you," murmured Rumplestiltskin, appreciative of the promise of a conversation with his son.

"Just holding up my end of the bargain," she replied as she exited, although she wagered the deal had long since been forgotten.

"Bae," Rumple began, before finding himself nearly crushed in his son's embrace.

"Papa," Neal replied. "You saved us all. You sacrificed yourself…"

"It had to be done," he stated, pulling back slightly from the embrace. "I couldn't let my father hurt you – or Belle – Henry – anyone."

"But they _needed_ you. We all needed you."

Rumplestiltskin shook his head, centuries not dampening his instinct to protect his child. "That wasn't your decision to make, Bae," he argued. "You're needed, too."

"Henry needed to be kept safe…"

"Henry deserves a father, he needs you here. As does Emma, though it will take her some time yet to admit it, I suppose. _I_ need you, Bae. Hundreds of years to find you, and I lost you almost as soon as I did. It seemed horridly unfair."

"None of this has been fair, Papa. Not since…" he trailed off, weighing the wisdom of drudging up the ages-old hurt.

"I know, son," his father replied simply. "And I'm so sorry for that."

"I love you, Papa," Neal said as he tightened the embrace again.

"I love you, too, Bae."

The two stood in comfortable silence for a few moments until Rumplestiltskin pulled away, ever so slightly, as he recalled that they were not alone in the shop. "We have a lot to sort out, I know. Maybe we can carve out some time for that now that everyone is back in one piece?"

"Of course," his son replied.

"In the meantime, I think there's someone else you need to catch up with – before she loses her nerve and runs again." He paused as his son chuckled in response. "Shall I send her in?"

"Yes, please," came the answer, as his father headed to the front of the shop.

* * *

Rumplestiltskin found Emma wandering idly amongst the curios, picking things up and putting them down without really looking at them. He cleared his throat to announce his presence before he spoke. "Miss Swan? Bae and I are finished for the moment if you'd like to have a word with him. I'm certain you two have some catching up to do."

Emma nodded and muttered a thanks as she covered the few steps to the doorway. She stopped as he began speaking again, "Don't look so frightened, dearie. You defied the laws of magic to bring the man back – a conversation should be nothing in comparison."

His flawed logic made her smirk as she turned to face him. "If only it were that simple."

"Sometimes the simplest things are the ones we make the most complicated," he replied, but she shook her head.

"There's more to this story than you can possibly know."

"What I know is the same thing I've known since we found him in New York. You have the opportunity for that second chance – don't be so foolhardy as to let it pass you by." Sensing her continuing hesitance, he pressed on. "My story with Baelfire is not a simple one, either, but somehow he has seen fit to give me another chance. I understand better than anyone the pain of regret and the power of forgiveness. Protecting yourself from past hurt is of little comfort when the one you love is dead. You have him back now – don't squander that."

She shook her head again, but he could see by the slight change in demeanor that his words had had some effect. Walking away, she could not see the knowing impish grin that came over him – which was probably for the best.

* * *

Emma found Neal sitting on the small cot his father kept in the back of his shop, and he patted the space next to him, inviting Emma to have a seat. She opted instead for the chair, near enough to speak but careful to keep her personal space intact.

"So…" he began, at the same time as she started in with, "Neal…"

He laughed. "You first."

"I just… I just don't want you to get the wrong impression."

"Which is…"

"That just because I 'true love' kissed you awake or whatever, that we're… together or something."

A chuckle and then, "Why do you think I'd expect that? _Love _has never been the issue here, has it? I know a kiss doesn't mean we're in a relationship."

"Yeah well, some people don't see it that way," she grumbled under her breath.

"Hmm?"

"Nevermind," she replied, shaking her head. "I just… there's so much stuff here," she continued, gesturing to the empty space between them. "I don't know what we are, you know, it's not… neatly defined. But dead, you deserved better than dead, especially when you died trying to get back to Henry and me. And Henry needs his Dad. And…" she studied the floor for a moment, finally lifting her eyes to barely meet his, "I kind of like having you around."

He did his best to bite back a grin, not wanting to scare her off from even her overly mild admission. "Well, I like being around," he said, unable to keep a teasing glint from his eye. A beat and then he continued, "I'd be lying if I said it didn't give me a glimmer of hope, I mean… _true love_, right? But I know it doesn't change the fact that I screwed up, and if you're not able to look past that, I'll understand. I promised last year that if you didn't wanna do lunch, I'd quit bugging you, and your saving me doesn't change that. I don't get to lay claim on you, it's gotta be your choice."

_Damnit_, Emma thought, _why did he have to be so understanding_? He was making it far too easy for her to fall for him all over again, and she just wasn't sure she was ready for that. But his father's words rang in her mind, and starting with the truth was a good beginning, so she began with correcting a misconception. "I was on my way to lunch," she said, "When we found Mother Superior. Obviously I got sidetracked…"

"You were coming?" He tried to hide it, but she could see him visibly brighten, that glimmer of hope burning just a little bit brighter.

"Yeah. I almost didn't, but then David gave me a little pep talk, about seizing good moments and not just waiting for the bad ones. He was right…" she laughed. "I'm finding I'm saying that a lot lately, about my parents. Who would have ever thought, huh?"

"I'm so glad, Em," he said simply, with a small, sincere smile, and she knew exactly what he meant.

"Thanks," came the reply, though what she was thanking him for, she wasn't entirely sure. Maybe nothing, maybe everything. A pause and then, "You got me _home_."

He shrugged. "That was always my goal."

"I know," she replied wistfully. "I know." They sat in silence for a few moments, until she abruptly changed the conversation's course. "Come back with me. To Granny's."

The only reply she received from him was a raised eyebrow.

"Not like THAT," she said. "That magic your father and I did… we have no idea what the consequences might be. Somebody should keep an eye on you. Plus it's getting late, and where else are you going to stay? Henry's at Regina's tonight, you can have his bed. That way I can keep an eye on you, make sure you're still… here. And, you know, breathing." She felt utterly ridiculous, but until the uncertainty of the time portal magic wore off, leaving him alone didn't seem like the best plan.

"Can I see him?"

"Henry? Of course. Let's get you showered and into… clothes," she said as she gestured at his Enchanted Forest getup, "And while you're doing that I'll call him."

Neal laughed. "Clothes sounds good."

They headed into the front of the shop, where Rumplestiltskin pretended to be doing something other than eavesdropping on the conversation in the back room. "Heading out?" he said casually.

"Yeah," came the reply, as his son walked over to him and hugged him, an embrace full of meaning. "Thanks, Papa," he whispered, hanging on several moments longer than necessary. "I'm gonna crash at Emma's tonight, go see Henry. I'll come by tomorrow, okay?"

"Night, Bae," his papa replied, watching him walk out the door followed closely by his love. He gathered up his things to close up just behind them, heading home to tell Belle about their incredible adventure. Although, he supposed, perhaps she already knew – depending on how this time travel business worked.

As they walked out, Emma held up the keys, stating, "I'll drive." She was glad it was dark so that he couldn't see her face as she reacted to the reflex of a dozen years prior. _Who the hell informs someone they'll drive their own car?_


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N – Part of this chapter is a bit redundant from a conversation on the show, but I hope it makes sense why it needed to happen. Time travel just makes things messy!**** Credit for anything in this chapter that you recognize goes to the show. I don't own it; if I did, I wouldn't need to write this story!**

**Thanks, as always, for your continued support!**

**CHAPTER 7**

The drive to Granny's was a short one, a fact for which Emma was glad. Wanting Neal back was one thing, having him back was another entirely – particularly having him back in the passenger seat of that car. Somehow over the various weeks they'd been in Storybrooke she'd never given him a ride anywhere, and doing so now was unnerving to say the least. To his credit, he didn't make a crack about the situation until they were getting out – just a quick quip, "I see you've learned to keep your eyes on the road, huh?" – and she was able to get away with an eye roll and a snarky response, reminding him that it's easier to do that without anyone popping up from the backseat to distract you.

She ushered him up the stairs at Granny's and into her room unnoticed, where he perched on the bed and looked at her expectantly. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Can we call Henry now?"

She laughed. "What happened to a shower and clothes?"

"Yeah, I don't know if I HAVE any clothes here in town…"

"Unless Granny cleaned out your room, your stuff should still be there – I think the curse returned everything," she answered, digging through her purse as she spoke.

"Oh yeah," he conceded. "I'll go see if she has a key."

She raised her eyebrow at him. "You want to walk up to Granny, who thinks you're dead, in _that_-" she gestured to his current wardrobe—"and ask her for a key?"

"Got a better idea?"

"Yeah," she replied, handing him the packet she'd pulled out of her purse.

He laughed in response, looking at the lock picking kit. "You think I should break into my own room?"

She shrugged. "It's your stuff. Do _you_ have a better idea?"

"Fair enough," he replied, trying not to grin and failing. "Old habits, I suppose."

"What, are your skills rusty? I could do it for you…"

He laughed again. "Some things, I don't think you ever forget." He paused for a moment, debating his next words, before deciding to just go for it. "I could use a lookout though…"

"Seriously?" she replied, raising an eyebrow. "You want me to fall for that?"

"I'm serious! What if Granny comes up and finds me – the dead guy – in enchanted forest garb, picking the lock to my own room. C'mon, Em, for old time's sake. Help me out here."

The puppy dog eyes did her in. "Fine," she retorted, "But only to save Granny from a heart attack."

* * *

Ten minutes later, they'd returned to Emma's room and Neal had gone to shower. She called Henry, asking him to come over when he had a minute – "I've got… something here I think you'll want to see." To her surprise, he was at the door before Neal had even finished in the shower.

"That was fast," she greeted him as she stood to hug him.

"Mom and I were on our way home from dinner, so I asked her to drop me by," he replied. "She's gonna run a quick errand, then she'll be back. What's up?"

She heard the shower shut off, the noise not lost on Henry either. "Who's here?" he asked, and she deflected, trying her best to give a non-answer.

"It's your surprise," she asked, and his expression was skeptical. "I promise you'll like it." A pause and then, "Was your dinner good?" as she tried to fill the minutes with questions about his day.

"Chicken sandwich," he answered distractedly, trying to put together the puzzle about his surprise.

Emma laughed, watching his brow furrow in concentration. "Henry, you're not gonna guess. Just give it a sec, he'll be out in a minute," she continued.

"He?" came Henry's reply, tearing his concentration from the bathroom door to look at his mother. He raised his eyebrow in continued skepticism, challenging her gaze, and with the distraction he missed the door opening behind him.

"Yep," came the reply, and the wide-eyed look Henry gave his mom before whipping his head back around made every uncertain moment of her day worth it.

"DAD?!" he exclaimed, mouth gaping open for a second before flying at him and wrapping him in a bear hug. "You're back!"

"Hey buddy," Neal replied, reciprocating the hug. "See, I told you I'd see you again." He buried his face in Henry's hair as he bent to kiss his head – though he'd gotten so tall in their year apart not much bending was required anymore – and lifted his eyes to Emma in appreciation.

"How did you – but I thought – but you were – but Mom, you said—" Henry oscillated back and forth between his parents, unable to formulate a full question, trying to make sense of the impossibility that had transpired. Finally, he settled on his mother, and a slightly different question – "Is he really _real_?"

She chuckled as she replied, "You're hugging him, of course he's really real." Becoming more serious, she continued, "As for how… you were right, Henry. As usual." She smiled gently before continuing. "It was wrong of me not to fix things when I had the chance, so Mr. Gold and I took a little trip today and got your Dad back."

"A trip? To where?"

Emma met Neal's eyes and watched him shrug, and she knew he'd advise her to just tell him the truth. "Um… the Enchanted Forest, last year?"

"You opened another time portal?! Cool!"

She couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm; in many ways he was still the same wonderstruck boy who had appeared at her door two years prior - despite all he'd been through. "I don't plan to make a habit of it, Henry. One wrong step and somebody might cease to exist. I made a special exception this time."

Henry's grip had loosened, and he was now merely pressed up against his father's side with an arm loosely around his waist. Neal's grip around Henry's shoulders was a bit tighter, not quite willing to let go of the son he'd fought so hard to get back to. "Should we sit down, buddy?" he asked, and a nod from Henry led the two of them to sit on the bed opposite from Emma.

Emma watched as the boys chatted about their year apart – Henry with limitless questions about the enchanted forest and Neal with nearly as many about Henry's time in New York. She mentally kicked herself, yet again, for not making this her first choice – her default choice – as she was reminded how close the two were despite the fact that they'd spent surprisingly little time together.

She was pulled from her thoughts by a knock on the door, and Henry said, "Oh, that must be my mom."

"I'll grab it," Emma replied, "You two keep catching up."

As Henry predicted, Emma opened the door to Regina, who began addressing her son as soon as the knob was turned. "Let's get going Henry, I've got a lot of –" Her statement cut off as soon as she noticed the third occupant in the room. "_Neal_?" she asked, in a rare moment of surprise.

"My Dad's back!" Henry exclaimed, popping up off the bed in eager excitement.

"Hi," Neal said, awkwardly, unsure of what precisely the protocol was for this most unusual situation.

"How…" Regina began, before turning to Emma. "He was dead. We had a funeral. He was dead, right?"

Emma nodded, fighting not to laugh at Regina's confusion. "He was. He's not anymore." She paused to consider her next statement, then continued with, "Gold and I opened another portal, went back and got him. No worries, Gold made sure I was very careful and didn't disrupt the timeline." She paused again, weighing how much of an explanation she owed, finally opting for an abridged version of the truth. "Henry deserved to have his father back."

"Right," Regina replied, with a raised eyebrow and a curt nod. "_Henry_ deserved to have him back."

Emma shrugged. "It's the truth."

Regina narrowed her eyes, but wisely opted not to push the matter further. "Better than the pirate, I suppose." A pause and then, "Come along, Henry. I'm sure your parents have lots of _catching up_ to do."

Emma rolled her eyes, while Henry hesitated, not easily persuaded to leave his father's side. "But Mom – " he started.

"Regina's right, Henry," Neal interrupted him, gently putting a hand on his arm. "Your mom and I have some things we need to discuss. How about if I hang out with you tomorrow? Maybe we can go to the park, practice swordfighting again?"

Henry considered for a moment, looking between all three of his parents before finally agreeing. "Okay. But Mom – " he addressed Emma – "You have to keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn't disappear, okay?" He stood and hugged his father once again before walking towards the door.

"Fair enough, kid," she replied, ruffling his hair as he walked past her.

Regina walked authoritatively out the door as Henry trailed behind. He grabbed the handle to shut it, but stopped when it was halfway closed, one last thing to say. "Night Dad," he started with a smile. "Night Mom… and, um, thanks."

"No problem," Emma replied with a smile, committing his grin to memory as he swung the door shut for real. The duo could hear his steps echo down the hall as he hollered after Regina, "Hang on, I'm coming!" in true Henry fashion.

"Hasn't changed much," Neal chuckled.

"No," Emma agreed. "Now that he has his memories back, same Henry, just… taller," she said, laughing.

"How did that work out, the memories Regina gave you? And getting your real ones back – you said something about a potion?"

A sad smile overtook Emma, as she recalled the life she and Henry had lived in those cursed memories. "They were great, really. We lived in New York during the lost year – of course in my mind I'd never given Henry up. And we certainly didn't know a thing about the Enchanted Forest. He was really well adjusted - we were really happy there. So when Hook showed up with the potion – I don't know, I'm glad to know my parents of course, and remember about you, but at the same time it meant remembering giving Henry up and all of the madness that comes with life around here. New York was a lot easier, definitely a lot safer."

Neal laughed, "There's some irony in that statement, you know, New York City being safer for a kid than a small town."

"Anyone who would find that ironic clearly doesn't know THIS small town."

"Touché." A pause and then, "He liked New York?"

"Loved it. Tons of friends, did great in school, lots of time just to hang out, awesome pizza, the only villains were in his video games…"

"And how did life of a single mom treat you?"

"I, uh," she chuckled at the irony of having to have this awkward conversation more than once, "I wasn't so single."

"Oh no?" he asked, a hint of poorly-hidden jealousy in his voice.

"I dated someone – eight months, actually. Until just before we came back here."

"Bad breakup?"

"Well – I suppose you could say that. He proposed."

"You said no?"

She nodded. "It was right when Hook showed up and I got my memories back. Told him I needed to come here, to help my family. Then… " she sighed, "Then he turned into a flying monkey." She watched Neal bite his lower lip, trying to hide his amusement. "Go ahead, you can laugh."

"I'm not sure I have much room to talk, my fiancé didn't turn out a whole lot better. Maybe worse, even – not only was she working for Peter Pan, she tried to kill me."

"Well, yeah, same here. I did manage to avoid the portal, though."

They laughed for a moment before Neal returned to seriousness. "Em, I'm sorry it didn't work out with him. I just want you to be happy. Even if it's not with me. You deserve that."

"Thanks," she replied, a shy smile creeping across her face. "I, uh –" she hesitated, unable to come up with a response that wasn't a bit too close to the truth, finally settling on the innocent, "You, too."

He shrugged. "Things are looking pretty good right now - I've gotten back to you and Henry, that's a good start. As long as I can be around to be his Dad, anything else is a bonus."

A genuine smile this time. "Well then let's do our best to keep you around here. Which," she yawned, "Given the day we've both had, probably means some beauty rest." She stood, and headed for the bathroom, grabbing sweatpants and a t-shirt along the way. "Don't disappear on me while I'm out of the room, 'kay?"

He laughed. "Promise."

* * *

It only took about two minutes after they'd settled into their respective beds before she broke the silence, and he chuckled inwardly, surprised it took even that long. She never did settle down to sleep after lights out without finding ten million things to discuss in the safety of the darkness. Somehow it was easier to speak the truth then, to draw out honesty, and it's always when they'd learned the most about each other. Her voice was soft, hardly more than a whisper, but easily audible across the few feet that separated the beds.

"We had that conversation once before, you know."

"Hm?"

"About New York – Henry's and my life there. The day you died… it was about the only conversation we had that day, really."

"Oh…"

"You reappeared – no one had seen you since the second curse brought everyone back – and wouldn't stay put in the hospital. We were in the woods, looking for your father, and we had a conversation very similar to the one we just had. Except…"

"Except?"

"Except it ended when you - when you died…" She trailed off, and there was unreadable silence for a moment before she continued. "I guess I always just thought we'd have time, time to figure it out, time to sort through it all. After whatever latest crisis had passed, I figured eventually I could muster up the courage to talk to you about… things."

"We have the time now."

He could hear the scratch of her hair brushing against her pillow as she shook her head. "But do we really? I don't want to assume that I can run away from everything forever and fix it eventually. That's not how my life works, there's always another crisis around the corner. Somehow they keep resulting in you being torn away from me. If we're gonna—" she faltered, considering her words, "If we're gonna try to do this, I can't keep delaying it and assuming we can do it later, I don't know if there will be a later. I've gotta stop running and use the time we've got, and –"

"And what, Emma?"

"And that terrifies me."

He was out of the bed and for a moment, she expected he might climb in next to her, wrap her up in his arms, and she wasn't sure how she felt about that. But instead she found him kneeling on the floor next to her, close enough she could make out the outline of his face, as he brushed the hair off of her face. "Hey," he began, "I want you to feel safe with me. I know we have a lot of junk in our past, a ton of stuff to talk about – but I need you to know that you can tell me anything. You are completely entitled to feel anything you feel and I swear I'll listen to whatever you have to say." He leaned in closer, putting his forehead on hers, and held her gaze for a moment. "Okay?"

She nodded, and he pulled back, placing a kiss on her forehead before crawling back into his bed. "Good night, Emma," he began, and after a moment's hesitation, "I love you."

Her response was but a noise, but reciprocation was not what he was looking for. The deep and regular breathing indicating that she drifted into sleep was all the reward he needed.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N - Sorry for the lag time between chapters! I'm doing my best to get up one a week, but life is insane sometimes! Rest assured I'm sticking with this story for the long haul. Continued thanks for reviews, favorites and follows – I'm so so honored that so many people are interested to see where this journey takes us! I love knowing that I'm not the only crazy one still invested in this ship :) And extra special thanks to textbookone for her beta reading and assistance with this one!

Also, a quick reminder that pulling Neal out of time at the vault means he would have never made it back to Storybrooke as he did on the show, meaning he'd be simply missing until Belle was able to recall his "death" at the vault. Thanks to Meresger for pointing out the potential continuity errors that would cause!

The next chapter is one of my favorites of the whole thing, so I'm excited to get it to you guys - hopefully later this week! :)

-DSB

* * *

**CHAPTER 8**

She woke to find sunlight streaming through the windows, and the man in the bed that was opposite from hers pretending not to stare in her direction. Try as she might, she couldn't help but hide the smile that crept upon her facing finding him still present, and still breathing. "Hey," she started, trying to sound casual. "Sleep well?"

"No," he said, but the crinkle around his eyes betrayed any indication he might be upset. "Somebody kept tossing and turning in her bed all night, making all sorts of racket."

"Sorry," her cheeks burned. "I just wanted to make sure, uh… you were still there."

"Still alive, you mean."

"That, too."

He sat up and stretched, and she wondered how long he had been awake. She, on the other hand, yawned and blinked a few times, not yet ready to start her day. "Plans for the day?" she asked, trying to keep the conversation light.

"Yes," he said, deadpanning as he stood and walked towards the bathroom. "I kept my social calendar very full from beyond the grave."

"Funny," she replied with a smirk. "You'll go to see your Dad?"

He nodded. "Henry, too, if he's around. School done for the year?"

"It is for him… I pulled him out back when we came here and never re-enrolled him. I hadn't planned on staying."

"Hadn't?" He turned back towards her, sensing perhaps this was an important point he had missed while he was away.

She sent him a bittersweet smile. "My adventure the other night… I realized you were right. You know you have a home when you just… miss it. For me, that's this place - or rather the people in it. So we'll stay. You?"

He stared for a moment, thinking of that long ago conversation as he allowed her words to sink in, then nodded in response to her question. "My family's here. Wild horses couldn't drag me away." She smiled and nodded in acknowledgment, as he again headed for the shower.

* * *

By the time he'd returned, she'd begun moving around. "Pop tart?" she offered, tilting the box in his direction.

"Thanks," he smiled, "Breakfast of champions, huh?"

"I let Henry have them for a treat sometimes," she shrugged.

"I haven't had one of these in YEARS," he replied. "Not since…" he trailed off, mentally kicking himself for bringing up old memories. "Well, a long time ago."

"They tasted better then, huh?"

"I think anything tastes good when you haven't eaten in a full day."

"It wasn't my fault you left our picnic in the rain!"

"No Emma," he couldn't resist teasing her, "I definitely distracted myself in the backseat there."

She glared at him, an age-old argument that would never be settled. "I don't know why you put the basket on the roof anyways. If you'd just left it in the front seat like I TOLD you to…"

"We were getting out!"

She scoffed. "You THOUGHT we were getting out. Clearly the backseat had other plans."

This time, he threw his head back and laughed. "Did you really just blame the ruined picnic on the _backseat_?"

She raised her eyebrow. "Well it's not my fault, and you claim it's not yours, so…"

"Fair enough," he said as he brought his laughter down to a chuckle, "We can blame the backseat." A beat and then, "We can probably blame the backseat for a lot."

Her cheeks burned crimson as she flashed back to any number of times the backseat was to blame for something or other, and she quickly busied herself with sorting through a suitcase to find a clean outfit for the day. Neal stood and watched her, amused by watching her squirm at the memories neither had quite moved past. His silence unnerved her, and she turned to look at him to find him wearing his trademark smirk, mocking her wordlessly as he had so often done. "Shut up, Cassidy!" she yelled, tossing a balled-up shirt at him.

"I said NOTHING!" he laughed in defense. Then he shook his head and walked over to the suitcase to deposit the wrinkled shirt, taking advantage of the excuse to stand next to her. "Hey," he said, taking her hand and squeezing it. His voice low, he continued. "Those were the best months of my life… you know that, right? I need you to know that."

"I know," she said, and as he met her gaze he could see that she was fighting with everything in her not to run away from confronting those past hurts.

"Good," he said, squeezing her hand again. "I don't want you to ever forget. Whatever happened after… those were the best."

A small smile was his reward, as she dropped his gaze and went back to the suitcase. "I gotta have a shower," she changed the subject, "and I should go down to the station and see what's going on." She thought and then continued, "And probably let my Dad know you're back."

"Ooh," said Neal, "Good luck."

"What? He likes you!" Neal raised his eyebrow. "Okay, at least he likes you better than Hook – so he'll be _thrilled _to know you're back."

Neal laughed again, "I'm not sure that's much of a compliment, but I guess I'll take it."

"Hey," she said, "I've gotta go back to NY at some point and get our stuff – mine and Henry's, I mean. Thought I might go later this week. Do you want to come along… I mean, I figured you might need to get your stuff since you're planning on staying here, too?"

"Sure, that'd be good. Although I have no idea if my stuff is still there, I haven't paid my co-op fees in-" he tried to count the months.

"It is," she said, "Or it was back in March."

"I'm not gonna ask how you know that," he answered with a raised eyebrow.

"Tell you on the trip," she laughed. "I'll tell you all about our year away."

"I'm sure it was more lively than mine!" he tossed after her.

"Not funny, Cassidy," she hollered back as she walked out, laughing anyways.

* * *

"David?" Emma called, walking into the sheriff's station and finding her father seated at his desk, working through the never-ending mountain of paperwork that always seemed to accumulate.

He smiled broadly as she appeared around the corner. "Emma!"

"Hey!" she replied, smiling back. "Thanks for covering for me yesterday. Did I miss anything?"

"Not much. Even Grumpy is behaving himself. How'd your day go yesterday?"

"It was… interesting," Emma said with a shrug, as she pulled out a chair and sat across from him.

"Your mother said you had a few things to take care of."

Emma snorted. "That's one way to put it. How much did she tell you?"

"Not much, actually. She said it was yours to talk about."

"Unusual."

"I know," he laughed. "Now Emma, why don't you stop stalling and fill me in?"

A sigh and then, "I _may_ have opened another time portal."

"Really," her father asked, sounding completely unsurprised. "Now why would you do that?"

"I, uh, needed to go back and get someone?"

"From a different time."

"Well, from before he died…"

"I see," David said, careful to keep his tone neutral. "Are you sure messing with the past was a wise decision, given that you almost erased yourself from existence yesterday?"

"I needed to get Henry's dad back to him."

"Badly enough to risk altering history?"

"Actually, yeah. My kid was hurting, and it was my fault. I needed to do whatever I could to fix it, and Mary Margaret suggested trying the time portal." He shook his head, and she continued before he could jump back in. "Plus, Gold insisted on going along with me to make sure I didn't mess anything up."

"Uh huh," he responded, still not entirely convinced. "Was your trip successful?"

"It was," she said, with a small smile. "Mary Margaret was right. Where there's a will, there's a way," she continued. "So now Neal's back. I couldn't leave it the way I did – he and Henry deserved better." She looked at her father and grimaced slightly before continuing. "You can go ahead now with the part where you tell me it's not just for Henry and encourage me to give him another chance."

"You never did make it to that lunch."

"I know."

"I just want you to be happy, Emma. Whatever that means to you, it's what I want for you." He paused as he briefly considered his next statement. "I will say that your mother is quite fond of Neal, you know. She seems to have settled on the notion that the two of you have true love."

Emma smiled wryly. "So she's told me."

"And how do you feel about that?"

She looked down, suddenly finding her shoelaces the most interesting thing in the world. "I'd really like to fight her on it, but…" she trailed off, eyes darting to the side before finally meeting her father's gaze. "It's hard to deny it when I saved him with true love's kiss." She snorted in displeasure as she continued. "God, how did my screwed-up love life end up as an _actual_ fairytale?"

David, to his credit, downplayed any reaction to what equated to a bombshell in his mind. "So what happens from here, then?"

"I don't know…" she answered honestly.

"Okay, what do you _want_ to happen from here?"

"I don't know," she repeated, but the fact that she wouldn't meet her father's gaze indicated perhaps it was less than honest this time.

"Emma. You don't know, or you're scared of what you want?" A sheepish smile was her reply. Her father continued, "We talked last year about trying to seize those good moments. Now that we've defeated the witch, the only thing standing between you and a chance at happiness is your own fear. True love is rare, but it doesn't come easily, it must be fought for – and Emma, you fight for what you want better than anyone I've ever known. Except for maybe your mother," he chuckled.

Another smile, and then, "I know, I just…"

"Just what?"

"What if I let him in and he hurts me again? What if I can't get past what happened last time?"

"And what if you find happiness?"

Emma frowned. "I'm okay now, David. I've got Henry, and you guys – it's a lot more than I've had most of my life. I'm pretty happy with that."

Her father shook his head, marveling at the stubbornness she had inherited from her mother. "Your mother and I had to fight for what we had, it wasn't always smooth sailing. You've read our story, it wasn't nearly as simple as the Disney movie makes it out to be. We had our share of heartache, but we worked through it, and it's been well worth it in the end." He paused, thoughtful for a moment, before continuing. "Emma, I can't promise you a happy ending. But I can promise that a _chance_ at a happy ending only comes if you're willing to fight for it."

She groaned. "Why do you two have to be so infuriatingly optimistic all the time?"

Her father smiled again, Prince Charming shining through. "Pretty sure it's in our nature. Look, Emma," he took her hand and gave it a squeeze, "Just promise me you'll think about it, okay? I don't want you giving up on what could be a good thing because you're frightened it might go bad. You can't live life that way."

She nodded, if for no other reason than to get out of the conversation. "Okay. I'll think about it. Now how about if you point me in the direction of whatever filing needs to be done?"

Her father laughed and shook his head, handing her a stack of papers from the corner of the desk.

* * *

"Papa?" Neal called, entering the cluttered shop he'd left barely twelve hours prior.

"Bae!" said Rumplestiltskin, emerging from the back room. "What a lovely surprise!"

"I told you I'd come back today," he said with a small laugh, "Did you not believe me?"

"I believed you intended to… just expected you might find more pressing matters at hand."

Neal laughed. "Emma and I talked a bit last night, and I got to see Henry for a few minutes. She headed into the station this morning, and I'm off to hang out with him next. The experiences of the last few weeks – or year, apparently – have reminded me that nothing is more important than my family… and you're included in that." His father smiled broadly, clearly touched, as Neal continued. "Hey, listen, I'm sorry, truly, about not trusting you in Neverland. What you did there, and at the town line, with Pan… clearly we've come a long way since the magic bean. I know that now, and I'd really like to try to rebuild a relationship here. If you still want the same, of course."

"More than anything, Bae," he replied.

"I guess we just start by… talking? How about you tell me what I missed in the last year? And how is Belle?"

"Belle is well. We were married a few days ago, actually."

"Congratulations, Papa," Neal said with a smile. "I wish I could have been there."

"As do I, son. If I'd known it was possible, we would have waited."

"Hey, I wouldn't have blamed you if you hadn't. You two have been separated more than enough. I got to know her a bit while we were in the Enchanted Forest, she's a great girl. I can see why you fell for her."

"Yes, I'm just still not sure why she reciprocates those feelings," he mused.

Neal shrugged. "Love tends to be funny like that, I'm finding. Not always a lot of rhyme or reason."

"Speaking from experience?" his father questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Never would have pegged myself as the love at first sight type, but somehow all these years later and I've never stopped. Just wish I hadn't screwed it up so badly."

"Bae, I don't know what you did, but I do know that she still loves you deeply."

"I know," he replied. "I'm just not sure she'll ever be able to get past it."

"She cared enough to propose a deal with me in order to get you back."

"You made a deal with her?! Aw, come on, I thought we were past that!" he exclaimed, exasperated.

Rumplestiltskin chuckled. "Baelfire, I hardly took advantage of the situation. She needed something from me every bit as much as I needed it from her. Made quite the impassioned plea though."

"She told me Henry deserved his father."

"Yes, it served as quite the convenient cover for her true feelings. That woman is far from over you." Neal shook his head, readying a rebuttal, but his father continued. "She just needs a little push to get past her fears. Given a bit of time, I suspect things will work out nicely. Don't give up on her, Bae."

"I don't intend to," he replied with a small smile. "We've got a lot to work through, though."

"It will come, I'm sure of it," Rumplestiltskin said, smiling enigmatically. Before Neal could question his father's confidence, the two men heard a noise and looked up as the shop's bell jingled, indicating a new arrival.

"Mr. Gold?" a small voice called out tentatively.

"Henry!" Neal replied, answering in his father's place. "Hey buddy! What're you doing here?"

Henry grinned. "Looking for you. Thought your dad might know where to find you."

"Indeed I do, young man," the patriarch of the group chimed in. "Your father and I were just having a visit."

"I was off to find you next, but it looks like you beat me to it," Neal continued with a smile.

Henry held up his wooden words. "Thought we could go to the park like you said yesterday?"

"Definitely," came the reply. He clasped a hand on his father's upper arm. "You don't mind if I scoot out, do you?"

"Not in the least. Go spend time with your boy. I'm sure he's missed you. A year apart is far too long."

"Thanks, Papa." A pause and then, "I'm glad we're getting the chance to catch up."

"Me too, son, me too," he replied with a smile as he clasped his son on the back. "Henry, don't wear your father out now, you hear? And get him to take you for ice cream after the park."

"Got it, Mr. Gold," Henry said with a laugh.

"Thanks for that," Neal said as he shook his head. "Don't get any ideas now - I'll never manage to win if the two of you team up."

"Have fun!" Rumplestiltskin called after the duo as they headed out.

* * *

"So New York was good, your mom said?" Neal asked as they walked down the small town's streets on their way back to Granny's, matching ice cream cones in hand.

"Yeah, it was really cool. Way different living there than in Storybrooke."

"Was it weird coming back here once you got your memories back?"

Henry shrugged. "It was just weird, period. I didn't have my memories when we got here, so it was a whole new place to me. Mom just told me that she had a case to work, and brought me along. She was acting really weird at first – all of these people she knew and had never mentioned, old friends I'd never heard of."

"That sounds like it was confusing."

Another shrug. "She kept pawning me off on different people to babysit, she trusted them but they were strangers to me. Grandma and Gramps, Leroy, Hook-"

"Your mom left you to be babysat by Hook? What did Regina have to say about that?"

"I don't know. I didn't know who she was to me, remember? I just knew her as the mayor."

"Oh yeah, right." He thought for a moment, contemplating the implications of Henry's altered relationships with the townsfolk. "Did I – did we meet?"

Henry shook his head. "No. You never made it back to Storybrooke with the rest of them. You were just missing… nobody could figure out where you were. Of course, I didn't know that you should be here, I had no idea who you were… Mom had always said you hurt her, set her up and left her and stuff… I caught whispers that everyone was looking for you, but it didn't make any sense, really, I couldn't figure out why she was so sad about someone I'd always thought she hated. I get why now that I remember everything, but it was all really weird at the time."

Neal paused before responding, taking a moment to swallow this impression his son had had of him. "I'm sorry, buddy. I'm sorry I left you and I'm sorry I was gone before we could meet again. And all those years ago, I never would have left your mom if I'd known…"

"I know. You didn't know."

A moment of silence passed before Neal pressed on for the story. "So how DID you get your memories back?"

"My book. They found it in Grandma Snow's closet and when Mom handed it to me, I remembered."

"And it wasn't confusing to just… remember… everything like that?"

Henry shook his head. "No, actually it made everything make a lot of sense – Mom's weird behavior, the flying monkey's I'd just run from… it was all a lot less weird knowing the truth. Although Mom still acted off, she hasn't been quite right since we came back from New York."

Neal sighed. "You gotta cut her some slack, Henry. It sounds like it's been a whirlwind since you guys returned."

"It's always a whirlwind around here. New York was nice for a break, I guess, but this is home."

"It's still a lot to take in, bud. Especially for your mom, who didn't grow up with all of the fairy tale stuff. She's gotta readjust to it, and get used to sharing you again."

"I dunno, Dad. I think a lot of it had to do with you."

"Me?"

Henry shrugged again. "She was different when they couldn't find you. Really sad at first, and then just… closed off. She yelled at me. She _never_ yells at me. She kept telling me she was trying to solve this case but then they caught the witch and she was still not herself. I ended up really mad at her after the whole time travelling thing…" He trailed off. "I'm just really glad you're back." Henry popped the last of his ice cream into his mouth and wrapped his arms around his father.

Neal pulled his arm around Henry as he said, "Me, too. I hate that I keep missing so much time with you. You've grown so much and I just keep missing it. I need you to know that I want to be here for you, more than anything."

"I know, Dad, I know you love me."

"I just… your mom and I, we bonded because we didn't have anybody else to take care of us. You were there when my dad found me, you know how messed up everything got when I was a kid. I don't want you to ever feel like that, like there's nobody who cares about you. I know I keep leaving and I hate that… it's always for a good reason but it still means I'm not around for you. I've hardly gotten a chance to be your dad. But I just need you to know that you're the best thing that ever happened to me. And to your moms, both of them. They fought like crazy to get you back when we were in Neverland. We all screw up sometimes, but I don't ever want you to feel unloved. I don't want you to end up with the issues your mom and I grew up with."

Henry stopped walking, turning to look at his father, brow furrowed, unaccustomed to someone treating him with the maturity he always insisted he had. "Okay," he said, nodding slowly as he processed his father's statements. "Okay."

"I love ya, kid," Neal repeated, pulling him tightly into another hug. "Forever and always."

"You, too, Dad," Henry replied, his voice muffled by his father's shirt.

He released his grasp, slightly, gesturing to the bed and breakfast they'd arrived in front of. "Should we go up and see what your mom is up to?"

Henry nodded. "Sure."

"Go easy on her, okay?" Neal reminded Henry as they walked up the stairs.

He was relieved to see that Henry seemed to take his words to heart, as he opened the door to the room and greeted Emma with a genuine smile and hug. "Hey Mom!"

"Hey kid," she replied, hugging him back. "Did you two have a good day?"

Henry grinned. "Yeah, Dad got me ice cream too. Mr. Gold told him to!"

Emma looked at Neal with a raised eyebrow, and he shrugged. "Those two make quite a team," he said with a smile, as he propped Henry's swords against the wall near the door. "I gotta be careful they don't make it a habit to gang up on me."

"You know it's nearly dinnertime. He'll never eat now!"

"He's a growing boy. Of course he'll eat."

"I will, Mom, I promise," Henry chimed in.

Emma groaned. "Now who's ganging up?"

Neal laughed and ruffled Henry's hair. "Okay kiddo, eat a good dinner for your mom. I'm gonna go find Granny and see if I can get my old room back."

"Need some space?" Emma asked, the raised eyebrow returning.

"I thought it might be the only way to get a full night's sleep without interruption," he joked, and she chuckled in response. "Nah, I just think it would be better… less confusing," he replied, tilting his head toward the pre-teen standing between them.

She nodded. "Yeah." A beat and then, "For all of us."

He answered her nod with one of his own as he headed for the door. "Hey Neal?" she piped up as his hand reached the doorknob. "You want to join us for dinner?"

"Love to," he replied over his shoulder with a grin. "Thanks. The diner in fifteen?"

"Sounds perfect."

* * *

Emma and Henry walked into the diner to find Neal already seated in a booth, waiting for them. He gave them a quick wave and they joined him, Henry plopping down across from his father before sliding over on the bench so that his mother could take a seat next to him.

"Any luck with Granny?" Emma asked him as she sat.

"I caught Ruby on my way in here, she's gonna bring me the keys. Probably for the best I ran into her instead of Granny – seeing me gave her a bit of a shock."

"I'll bet!"

"Y'know Dad," Henry piped up, looking around the diner, "I'm not sure Ruby's the only one."

His parents looked at him, then each other before glancing around at the other patrons, finding several sets of eyes on their table. They smiled at those around them, then looked back at each other and widened their eyes, silently communicating their exasperation.

"Just ignore 'em," Henry continued. "Weird stuff happens around here all the time. You coming back shouldn't really be a surprise to anybody."

"Kid's got a point," Neal said with a shrug. "Kind of surprised they even care… I didn't really know most of the people in town."

Emma cringed. "My parents may have had something to do with that. They kinda made a big deal out of how you were a hero and saved everyone… went and named their baby after you and everything."

"After _me_? That's awfully flattering… all things considered…" He processed the rest of her statement before continuing with, "Wait, they had another baby?" Emma nodded, an unreadable expression on her face. "How are you handling that?"

Ruby approached the table just then, saving Emma from the conversation. "Later," she mouthed, inclining her head towards Henry, who was occupied with greeting their waitress and ordering a cheeseburger, "with extra fries!"

"I think regular fries are just fine for him, Ruby," Emma said with a laugh, "and I'll have the grilled chicken salad."

"Same as Henry for me," Neal requested, "and a plate of fries for the table."

"Neal!" Emma scolded, laughing again. "You have GOT to stop giving him junk food every time he asks!"

"Who said they were for Henry?" he replied. "Just bring the fries, please, Ruby."

Ruby shook her head at their antics before walking their order back to the kitchen as the pseudo argument continued across the table. "Seriously?" Emma raised an eyebrow as she stared him down, and he merely shrugged.

"So Mom," Henry interjected, ignoring his parents' bickering, "Dad took me swordfighting today. He said my skills are kinda rusty! I think the wooden swords are getting too small."

"Well you _have_ grown about a foot since you guys last played with them… maybe we can get Marco to make you some new ones," Emma said, to which Henry responded with a pout. "Henry. We are NOT getting you a real sword. You're _twelve_." She looked across the table. "Back me up on this one, please?"

"Your mom's right. I bet Marco can make you a great set of swords. But we should probably wait a while before we introduce real weaponry."

They bartered with Henry for a while over what _might_ be an acceptable age to introduce an _actual_ sword, finally settling on deferring the decision until his grandfather could be consulted. "Gramps is the real swordsman anyways," Henry postured, causing Neal to feign mock offense. The promise of larger swords from Marco seemed to tide him over in the end, and all was settled just as Ruby returned with their food.

The trio munched on their dinner as they continued to discuss their day's adventures, and Neal watched in amusement as the pile of fries in the center of the table steadily shrunk on the side nearest Emma while she merely picked at her salad. Henry, in the meantime, had finished his burger and was dousing his few remaining fries with ketchup, and so Neal grabbed a small handful from the central plate and tossed it onto Henry's, earning himself a Look from Emma.

"What? First you tell me he won't eat his dinner, and now you're giving me grief at feeding him more?" Neal said with a smile. A glint appearing in his eye, he couldn't help but tease her. "I mean, you don't mind sharing, do you?"

"Not my fries," she said with a shrug.

"Right," he laughed. "That pile magically disappeared." A pause and then, "You never were much of a salad girl, anyways. Had you pegged for a hamburger tonight."

"I'm not 17 anymore, Neal… can't survive on junk. Gotta get my greens somehow."

Henry looked up from his plate. "Don't let her fool you, Dad. She ate junk food all the time while we were in New York."

"Traitor," Emma muttered, as she grabbed a fry and reached over to dip it in Henry's ketchup.

"Just telling the truth, Mom," he replied with a shrug.

"Speaking of New York," she continued, pointedly redirecting the conversation, "Do you think you can stay with Regina through the end of the week? Your Dad and I are going to go down to the city to get everyone's things and bring them back here."

"Together?" he asked excitedly.

His parents exchanged a brief look before Neal responded. "It's a long trip, bud. Your mom figured it would be nicer than traveling separately. She'll get your stuff while I get mine and then we'll come on back."

"Oh." Henry's face fell. "Um, I'm sure it would be fine. I can ask her tomorrow."

"Where's she going to be tonight?" Emma asked.

"I thought I'd stay with you. I mean, if that's okay…"

"Of course, Henry! I love having you with me, you know that."

Henry caught his Dad's eye, who gave him a smile and a quick nod of approval. Neal then caught Ruby's attention, giving her a wave to let them know they were ready for the check. She walked over and set it on the table, and as she did so, Neal noticed that the key to his room was on top.

"Thanks, Ruby! Now that's service," he laughed, as he thanked Ruby and pulled the tray towards him.

"Let me know how much my part is," Emma said, and he shook his head.

"Nah, don't worry about it."

"Neal, you don't need to pay for our dinner."

"I know I don't need to, but I want to." Sensing her continued hesitance, he pressed on with a slightly different tack. "Consider it a thank you for yesterday."

She scowled briefly before giving in. "Fine. Thank you, and you're welcome."

"You about done, bud?" he asked, turning his attention to Henry, who nodded. "Let me pay this and then I'll walk you guys upstairs."

Neal took care of the check and the small family departed the diner and ascended up the stairs to their rooms. His room was a few doors past the one Emma and Henry shared, and so he paused to say goodnight to them as they retired for the night. Henry gave him a quick hug before bounding into the room, and Emma began to follow him in. She seemed to think better of it as she paused and turned back around, saying, "Hey, thanks for dinner, Neal. I had a really nice time tonight."

"Me too," he replied with a smile. "And you're welcome. Anytime." They stood in awkward silence for a moment before he gave her a quick wave and headed down the hall towards his room. She watched after him for a moment, thoughts swirling, before she stepped back into her own room and shut the door.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N – Apologies for the tardiness of this chapter. My beta reader had real-life happenings (either cross-continental moving or professional-level sousaphone lessons, take your pick,) and let's just say when I got this chapter's notes back I was reminded why I won't post without a beta! :) She asked me to send her apologies. As far as I'm concerned, she is still awesome, and if you enjoy this story you owe her a thanks for her extensive help!**

**Chapter 9**

Two days later, fresh off of their flight to the city, Emma and Neal climbed the last few steps from the subway station and began to walk the handful of blocks to Neal's apartment. In tandem, they took in the hustle and bustle of Lower Manhattan; the traffic, pedestrians, and the myriad of storefronts that littered the area. As they walked, they passed a small park with posters affixed to the fences to promote an upcoming circus – 'Lions! Tigers! Bears! Oh, my!' and 'See Camilla, the magical chicken!' The circus was already setting up inside its gates, evidenced by several brightly colored tents and an elephant being led off of a truck into its pen, a stark contrast to the skyscrapers behind it.

"Only in New York," Neal said, laughing. "I _am_ gonna miss this city."

"Second thoughts about small-town living?"

"Not really," he replied. "It'll be a nice change. I'd always gravitated towards cities; easier to get lost in them and not have to explain too much about your past."

"Or get spotted by shopkeepers you'd wronged?"

"And that," he agreed with a chuckle. "Seriously, though, at least in Storybrooke all of the weirdness is considered normal. When somebody asks where you're from, 'The Frontlands' is an acceptable answer. Talking about the Enchanted Forest won't get you tossed in a psych ward. But I did love living here."

"Yeah, Henry and I enjoyed it, too," Emma said in agreement. "But Storybrooke is home."

They crossed a final street and Neal nodded towards his building. "It's this one here," he said as he pulled the handle open, holding the door and allowing Emma to enter first.

"Oh, I know," she said with a laugh, "I've been here a time or two."

"Fair enough," he replied as he buzzed them through the gate and headed towards the elevator.

They rode up in comfortable silence before exiting on the fourth floor and heading down the hall. "We can get Henry's camera back to him… I'll bet he's missed it," Neal bantered as they exited the elevator and made the turn down the hall to his apartment.

"Oh, um, I uh… I already gave it back to him…" she stammered, realizing they'd never gotten around to the story of her visit to his apartment on the plane ride to the city.

He stopped and tilted his head to the side, a curious expression on his face. "When'd you come back to my apartment?"

She sighed. "When Hook was trying to convince me my life in New York wasn't real… he sent me here. Henry's camera was inside, and the pictures he'd taken were definitely not of our life in New York."

"I don't want to know how you got in, do I," he said rhetorically, and the corner of his mouth turned up in amusement. "Did you at least lock up behind yourself?" he asked, as he started walking again.

"I had a really good teacher…" she said with a smirk, then laughed as he rolled his eyes.

"Well, this time, we'll take the legal route," he replied, holding the key up to illustrate his point before he unlocked the door.

Immediately upon entering, Emma's eyes lit on the dreamcatcher in the window. She strode over to it with a look of surprise on her face and picked it up, as it seemed she was destined to do each time she walked into that apartment. "It's fixed," she exclaimed in confusion, lifting it off the nail and turning to face Neal.

"It… looks like it always has," he replied to her, raising an eyebrow.

"No, no. When I came last time, it had some broken threads over here," she showed him, running her thumb over the previously damaged corner. He shrugged in response. "How did that happen?" she continued. "Things don't just fix themselves. It was broken… and now it's… not."

Neal shrugged again. "I was dead and now I'm… not. Seems stranger things have happened…"

She squinted her eyes and looked at him, shaking her head. "It's really weird, Neal. Don't you think it's weird?"

He sighed, trying to keep from laughing at her. "On a scale of one to 'our parents are fairy tale characters,' it's only a little weird. Didn't you tell me you like, magically levitated a bridge or something while I was gone? Now THAT is weird."

The squint turned into a glare as she continued to press her point. "Nobody magicked this, though! It just… fixed itself. It's weird."

He laughed then and, shaking his head, turned to walk into the bedroom area, surveying his belongings. "I don't know that there's a ton here I need to take. Mostly just my clothes. The furniture was hand-me-down, it can stay, they'll probably just toss it. We can probably get some boxes at the corner market… you want to run down there?"

He turned back to her to find her still standing in the middle of the living room, holding the dreamcatcher and staring off into space. "Em?" No reply. "Em, obviously we'll take that…" He walked back into the living area and gently touched her arm, calling her name again. "Emma?"

"Hmm?" she finally replied, his touch breaking her trance. "Sorry, I was just thinking…"

"About?"

"Everything…" she replied, her tone of voice telling him that 'everything' really meant, 'us.'

"Want to talk about it?" he replied, walking over to sit on the couch.

She sighed and followed him, placing the dreamcatcher on the table as she sat. "Not really."

"Emma…"

"Don't 'Emma' me! I just – the last time I was here, all I knew is that you were the jerk who sent me to jail, and somehow you had a camera with my kid's name on it - the kid you weren't supposed to know existed. And the time before that? Well, same thing, minus the camera." She let out a bitter laugh. "Doesn't bring back the best memories."

"Mine aren't the best either, to be honest. Mostly – mostly just waking up with nightmares about my father, and a fiancé whose involvement in my life was all a con."

"Boy, I know how that feels," she replied automatically. A moment later, her eyes widened, realizing what she'd just said, and she jumped to apologize. "Crap, Neal, I didn't mean –"

"You did," he interrupted. "It's okay. You do know. And I'm sorry for that – but you still know how it feels to find out that someone you thought loved you was just using you. And it sucks."

"I'm sorry," she said, and his expression changed to one of surprise.

"Why are _you_ apologizing to _me_?

She shrugged. "I'm sorry that you had to go through that. You're right. It does suck." A sarcastic smile and then, "It worse than sucks."

He contemplated a moment before replying. "You know I didn't – I didn't turn you in."

"What?" she replied, startled. "But I–"

"August, he – all he said I had to do was leave you alone. Just not show up to our meeting, just let you be. I didn't know he'd turn you in, he just said I should leave you to your destiny. Once I found out you'd been arrested, I tried to convince him to let me go to you, let me do your time, but he said even if I could make that happen you'd just wait for me."

"He was probably right," she smiled, sadly.

"I met with him, a couple of months after… after. I gave him the car, and the cash, and the keychain – and I made him promise to get it all to you. And I made him promise he would watch over you, be there for you, since I couldn't be there."

"Crappy job he did of that."

"What?"

"I met him, for the first time, in Storybrooke."

"What? How'd you – you had the car, the keychain – how'd you get them?"

Another smile, somewhere between sad and nostalgic, fell on her face. "They came in an envelope from Phucket," she said. "They arrived the same day-" She faltered, reliving a memory not visited in years.

"The same day as what?"

"The day I found out about Henry," she replied, near a whisper.

"Oh," he replied, understanding yet another piece of the puzzle. "So you thought I'd taken 20k, run off to Thailand, and left you a crappy car… while you sat in jail… with a baby…" A moment and then, "Damn, Emma, I would've hated me, too."

"The car wasn't crappy."

"Don't change the subject, Em. This is the stuff we've gotta get through if we're ever gonna move past it. You can't talk around it forever."

She sighed. "I know," she replied, her voice quiet and small. He knew her well enough to know that it was a reflection of her confidence in that moment, and resettled himself on the couch so that he was sitting next to her, rather than facing towards her, in hopes that his proximity would offer some comfort.

"Ems, these conversations are probably going to be the hardest things we'll ever do together. But we gotta – we just gotta. Even if you don't want a future with me after everything, I think there is stuff you should know about, just so you can get some closure on it. So don't carry stuff around – ask me the questions you need answers to and say what you need to. Don't ever apologize for it, I can take it, you know?"

"You sound like Henry," she said as she looked up at him with a wistful smile, and he smiled back, restraining himself from wrapping a comforting arm around her as he did so.

After a few more moments of silence, she summoned up the courage to ask the questions he'd just encouraged her to. "So was that the last of the conversation with August?"

"No," he replied, his turn to lack confidence as he leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. "He promised to watch over you – some comfort now, I know – and then I asked him to let me know when the curse was broken."

"And?" she asked, sitting up.

"And… he promised to send a postcard," he said, standing and wandering almost involuntarily across his living room.

"So did he send it?"

"Yeah."

"Why…" she looked down and swallowed, closing her eyes to steady herself before asking the question that had weighed on her mind for months now. "If you knew the curse was broken, why didn't you come?"

Neal went to the window and stood leaning against it, facing out, staring eastward at the skyscrapers and water towers before him. He placed his palms on the windowsill and then glanced back at Emma.

"I stood right here," he gulped, then continued, almost wistfully, returning his gaze to the window, "Right here at this window and got the postcard from August. I'd been dating Tamara for, for a few months I guess? And I told myself I shouldn't go to you, because it wouldn't be fair to her, she didn't deserve to be left just 'cause I still carried a torch for someone else." He shot a sidelong glance at her, accompanied with a small, sad, half smile. "So I proposed instead, like somehow if I were tied to her I could have an excuse not to run to Storybrooke." A deep breath and then, "But the truth is, it had nothing to do with her. It had everything to do with me, and using that as an excuse to not risk getting hurt. If I was here, if I had a reason not to go, then there was no chance I'd be rejected. If I never went to you, as I'd sworn I would do all those years ago, then you wouldn't have a chance to break my heart – the way it deserved to be broken – the way I'd done with you. So I stayed, and I dug my way in deeper here, and went ahead and pretended it was okay, moved on anyways, buried the hurt that I knew would come anyways. Better to do it to myself than to go to you and bring up the memories, hurt you again, better just to assume you'd never forgive me. I hadn't forgiven me, why would you? So if I didn't go, I wouldn't have you, but at least I wouldn't have to live through you hating me, right to my face. I was okay, you know? It wasn't great – it sure as hell wasn't Tallahassee – but it was okay. But in hindsight, not going to you then? That – out of all of this, that's my biggest regret."

She blanched – reminded again why it was that he was her counterpart, the only person who understood her so completely. His words were eerily similar to hers, the night she'd gone through the time portal – the first time portal, the time portal she'd tried to forget – where it was easier to just leave him dead than to face the hurt all over again. The similarity was all she could think of, the anger she thought she should feel melting away, and somehow it only seemed fitting to confess her greatest regret as he confessed his. "I left you dead," she found tumbling out of her mouth, so softly she almost wasn't sure whether she said it or thought it.

He turned towards her, a puzzled expression on his face. "What? I'm – I'm right here," he replied. Whatever reaction he had expected from her, it wasn't that.

She shook her head, ever so slightly, as she leaned forwards, towards him. "Before I brought you back, when I went back in time the first time, I could have brought you back and I… didn't. What you just said? That's exactly what I was feeling when I didn't." A half a smile and then, "I'd kind of like to get mad and yell at you, but I'm pretty sure you're the one who should be yelling at me. Not coming after me… that pales in comparison to _dead_."

He narrowed his eyes, contemplating this revelation, unable to completely wrap his brain around it. More than the fact that she hadn't brought him back, he was focused on the fact that at some point, she _did_. What made her change her mind, he wondered. "But then why'd you…"

"Go get you back? Guilt, partially. It was so unfair to you, Henry, your Dad…" She saw his face fall, clearly having hoped for a different answer. "But mostly," she swallowed hard, "It was because I realized how foolish I was to let the possibility of that hurt get in the way of a chance at happiness." She shook her head. "It was easier to have you gone, to not have to deal with it – what I said in the cave was true – but you know, my mom said something to me, a long time ago. She told me that if true love was easy, we'd all have it. So for once, I thought maybe I should try something other than the easy way."

He smiled. "Your mother is very wise." He paused as he weighed the risk before continuing tentatively. "How's the hard way working out?"

She shrugged. "I think I'm still in the hard part."

His brow furrowed as he frowned. "I'm sorry."

Another shrug. "Maybe we should finish this story. I… I think you're right. I think I need to hear what happened that night. All of it."

He nodded. "What do you want to know?"

"What happened with August," she asked tentatively, "that got you to leave me and turn me in? Or, I guess, let him turn me in?"

He shook his head. "It wasn't quite like that."

"Well what _was_ it like, then?" She had to work hard to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "I was told you called and turned me in – left me to take the fall for your stupid watches while you ran off to Canada."

A quick, bitter laugh escaped him. "Is that what he told them, then? I'd always wondered."

"What do you mean?"

"August made the call. I didn't know until it was done. It was all he could do to keep me from running after and turning myself in."

"How did he even know?"

"I – here. Let me start at the beginning." She nodded, as he returned to his spot on the couch. "When I went to fence the watches, August was there. He tackled me in the alley… you know this part. He knew who I was, my real name, and he told me about the curse. I agreed to listen – that was my first mistake.

"When he explained the story, he started in on your parents, how they had given you up, sent you through that wardrobe to keep you safe. How they – and everyone else - were doomed to repeat the same day over and over, stripped of their memories, stuck in this town in Maine of all places. And how I needed to let you go so you could get there – meet your parents, go home. I knew how badly you wanted those things, Emma, how badly you needed the answers to why your parents had left you and how much you wanted to find a home. And I knew – August didn't say it, but _I_ knew – that it was my fault you'd grown up without all of that; that damned curse had my father's name all over it and it had cost you everything.

"You were a princess, August said, and who the hell was I to keep you from that? What could I offer you – sleeping in a car, stealing just to eat, showering every third day in a stolen hotel room… if we were lucky. And that's when I made my second mistake. I told him we had a plan, we were going to go straight and move to Florida, get real jobs and have a real home. He asked how the hell we thought that was going to happen and I told him about the 20K from the watches. I shouldn't've – of course – but he'd baited me and I was angry. You know I wasn't always the most rational then, and he was attacking our life together… my temper just snapped. I guess he'd been watching us for a few days; he'd seen you at the train station and us in the car and it was the last piece of the puzzle he needed.

"So he manipulated me some more – in the months and years that followed, what he did was so clear – how long did I think 20K would last, really? I was still wanted; who would give us jobs and even if they did, what kind of life would we have on six-fifty an hour? He convinced me you could do so much better without me, without my baggage and my record to weigh you down, you could have a real life and when the time came, you could be reunited with your parents and have that life you deserved.

"And so I left then, but really – that's all I did. I went and fenced the watches, almost missed the guy 'cause I was late, but I got the money and then I went to a park, to sit and figure out what the hell to do next. I figured you'd look for me when I didn't show, so I called and had them change the number to my phone - then I just sat. Took about an hour before I realized I was a complete idiot, and August didn't know a damn thing about us anyways. So I went to the train station – walked up over the hill and I could see the cop cars sitting there. Started to run down there and damn if August didn't tackle me again. Said he figured I might try to show, he'd been waiting for me.

"I told him I had to go to you, to straighten it out – to have them take me instead of you – but he told me I couldn't. Held me there, practically sat on me as he convinced me not to go. I was desperate, Em, desperate to fix it – but it was already so screwed up. If I showed up, he said, they wouldn't just take me and let you go, they'd put both of us in jail, and I'd be there a hell of a lot longer. He told me you'd wait for me – and that I'd screw up your life even more. You wouldn't have the money, you wouldn't have me, and you still wouldn't have your family. Given the nature of the crime and your age, he said you'd just get a short stay, the records would be sealed and then they'd help you get on your feet when you got out. You'd have a better life, a better life than waiting for some deadbeat, and then you could find your family. It was the only way to get you home, he said. And so finally I agreed. To get you home.

"We sat on that damn hill and watched them take you away and I have never felt so helpless in my whole life. I don't know how long we sat after that, I couldn't talk, I couldn't do anything – but finally he got up and walked away. Just got up and walked away, like it was nothing, like he hadn't just destroyed both of us. I didn't see him again until two months later, he tracked me down in Canada and that's when I gave him everything to send to you."

"And he promised to send the postcard."

"Right."

"And that was it?"

"I guess so. I'm assuming he went to Thailand then, and he stayed away until he went to Storybrooke, just before the curse was broken."

"Huh."

He raised an eyebrow at her lack of response, but she merely stood and headed toward the window. "I think I need to get some air," she said, not leaving him time to respond before she clambered onto the fire escape.

* * *

A little while later, he paused from folding clothes into boxes to glance out the window. He noted that her pacing had stopped, that she was now seated on the stairs leading to the floor above, staring out at the gridwork of lit windows that lay beyond his fire escape. Her calmer demeanor told him she'd gotten the space she needed, and he decided to make an attempt at joining her, carefully easing himself out the window.

"Hey," he started, and she met his gaze but did not break the silence. "Mind some company?"

She shook her head before again averting her eyes, and he moved to stand against the rail across from her, Manhattan at his back. She stared into space, weighing her word choices, before she started in. "It's a lot to take in."

"Yeah," he idly replied.

Silence settled in for a moment, as each was caught up in their thoughts. She broke the silence, finally, with a statement of frustration. "I don't know how to justify being mad anymore after all that. I'm so used to being mad about it, being hurt and heartbroken and just… after so many years it's almost as bad that I was wrong about everything as if it had happened the way I thought. I spent so long carrying that around, that you didn't love me, I was just someone young and stupid enough to fall for you so that you didn't have to pay for your crime. I don't know how to let go of that, all of the hurt I've carried around for so long."

"Yeah, I get it," he answered.

"You do?" she asked, looking at him in surprise.

He shrugged. "I felt the same way about my Dad. It didn't go down quite like I thought, but – I was still mad. I was so used to being mad I didn't know how to be anything else."

She turned away, staring again into the night sky as she considered. Finally she turned back to him, quietly asking the question that was weighing her down. "How'd you – how'd you get past it?"

Another shrug. "Still working on it, I guess. But seeing him act differently, prove that he wasn't the same person – seeing how he was willing to sacrifice for all of us – it made a big dent. Spending time with him and building that relationship back up will help. I don't know how else to do it. I'm still guarded, but it's nice to have that relationship back. I missed my Papa then far more than I miss my anger now, you know?"

She nodded contemplatively. "Yeah. Yeah, I get what you mean." She met his gaze, finally. "Maybe that's it, then. Maybe I need to realize it's better to have you than to have my anger."

"You think that's it?"

"Well, it's not everything."

"No?" She shook her head. "What else, Emma." She didn't answer, instead looking away again and fidgeting in her spot. He encouraged her to continue. "Now's the time, get it out while we're in the middle of it."

"I think I need you to forgive me, too."

He looked back at her, wondering if perhaps the stress of the prior years had finally caused her to go insane. "Me, forgive you? For what? There's nothing to forgive."

She let out a sharp laugh, eyes rooted to the ground, as she argued against his statement. "There is… even if you don't remember all of it. Back in Neverland, I wished you dead –"

"Emma, we already talked about that, when it happened. I knew what you meant, I know you well enough to get it… the fact that it was easier to deal with me being dead than to deal with our past. And I can't blame you for that, not after everything."

"I don't know Neal, I didn't mean it as a literal wish but then in the woods… I know you don't remember, but when we figured out about you and your Dad, you asked me to separate you – we knew it would kill you but I did it anyways. You told me to but afterwards I just… I should have fought harder for you. I should have found another way to separate the two of you, or waited to find out if there was a way to save you after, or – just, something. I accepted so easily that you had to die, that there was nothing to be done. If it had been my parents, they would have found a way, you know?

"So yeah, Neal," she finally looked up to meet his gaze, "There's a lot you need to forgive me for. I held you in my arms and watched you die, and I asked you not to, but I didn't fight for you, not really. Not like I know you would've fought for me."

"Em—"

"Plus, after that," she barreled through his interruption, "when I went back in time, I asked your dad to not change your death, to leave you a hero, and that was so wrong of me. I should have been begging him to change things and bring you back, but instead I begged him to leave things be."

"Emma," he began, sitting on the step below her and resting a hand on her knee, "I get it. You never would have reacted that way if I hadn't hurt you in the first place. I'm not mad, really."

"But you _should_ be angry with me. What I did to you – that's a horrible thing to do to a person. Any person, let alone someone you claim to love!"

"Do you still want me dead?"

"No, of _course_ not. That's why I went back to get you."

"So you reacted in the moment and did something stupid. I, more than probably anybody, can get how that happens. I didn't have the opportunity to go back and fix mine. Trust me, if I could've, I would've. But you _did_ have a chance to fix it and you did. And you did it despite all of those past hurts – sounds more like bravery than cowardice to me."

She snorted. "All of this is anything but brave."

"You need to let it go, Em. I guess I could choose to be mad about it, but listen – I'm here now, I'm not dead, and you've given me the opportunity to clear the air about a lot of things that have plagued me for a long time. I'm so grateful for that, and honestly, I'm really proud of you. I know how hard it is for you to talk about this stuff."

"It didn't used to be. I used to be able to talk to you about anything."

"I know. I'm sorry," he said. "Hopefully we can get back there again. I mean, I know it'll be a long road but… I want you to feel like you're able to do that."

"This might be a good first step," she offered with a tentative smile.

He mirrored her smile, then gave her knee a quick squeeze as he stood. "C'mon," he said, offering her a hand, "we should head back inside."

"I should probably head out, actually" she said, as they climbed in through the window.

"Going back to your place?"

"Well I'm certainly not sleeping on that thing," she replied, gesturing to the worn plaid couch.

He laughed in response. "Hey, it's not that bad!"

She shrugged. "My apartment's only a couple of blocks away. You can come over in the morning once you finish up here?"

"Sounds good. See you then?"

"See you then," she reciprocated, as she swung the door shut behind her.

He gazed after her for a moment, allowing a sloppy grin to slide onto his face. For the first time in a long time, he had hope, real hope that maybe the damage of the past could be repaired. With a lightness in his step he walked over to lift the dreamcatcher off the table, placing it carefully at the top of his travel bag to ensure its safe travel to the town they'd call their home.

**A/N2 – For me, 3B was a gamechanger in this situation. Despite her lack of reaction on the show, Echo Cave + Quiet Minds + 322 as a combination should, IMO, cause a huge weight on Emma (regardless of romantic entanglement.) Prior to that sequence of events, I think forgiveness would have taken an entirely different track, but as it stands right now I feel like her "wrongs" towards him equal (or maybe even surpass) his towards her. I had intended to write this chapter a lot more explosive than it ended up being, but when I got right down to it, I realized how much of an effect that would have on how she perceives things. I'd really love to hear everyone's opinions on this, so if you opt to review, let me know! :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N - I was blown away by the reception to the last chapter - thank you, all! It is, IMO, kind of the heart of the story and to see it so well-received thrilled me to pieces.**

**I know I always thank her, but textbookone provided a serious amount of inspiration for this chapter. She gets extra awesome points here, especially if you like the middle section. ;)**

* * *

**Chapter 10**

"Corner of Bleeker and Broadway," Emma had texted. "Call when you get here."

Midday, the phone rang and she gave Neal her apartment number with the passcode for the gate. Minutes later, there was a brief rap on the door, and she hollered at him to come in.

"Hey," she called as she heard the door open, looking up from where she was pressing a final piece of tape down on the box she'd been sealing. "All done at your place?"

"Yep," he said with a nod. "Turned in the keys about an hour ago. Nice place," he continued as he surveyed the apartment around him.

"Thanks," she replied.

"What can I help with?" he asked.

"I think everything's in pretty good shape," she said, gesturing to the pile in the corner. "Who knew one kid would add so much stuff? The neighbor is gonna take the plants... it's the least I can do to thank her for all the times she kept an eye on Henry for me. The only other thing that's mine is the end table," she finished, faltering a bit.

Neal was puzzled by the hesitance in her voice at the last statement. "Okay? It's kinda bulky, but I'm sure we can find a box to fit it."

"It's not that. It's just…" She blew out a frustrated stream of air. "It's how I met Walsh."

"Walsh?" he questioned, before realizing who she must be talking about. "Oh, _Walsh_. Proposal turned flying monkey?"

"One and the same," she replied.

"You met him over an end table?"

"There was nothing on that side of the couch to put mugs on," she said, with a gesture towards the area. "I'd set mine on the floor, but Henry kept kicking it over. I got sick of cleaning up the mess, so I stopped into this furniture store in midtown one day when I was waiting for a callback on a case. The guy who owned it – Walsh – was super sweet, helped me find exactly what I was looking for and put it on order. When I went back in to pick it up, he asked me out on a date. He'd been so helpful when I first stopped in that I accepted. He was kind and thoughtful, completely unlike like the guys I usually dated, and he was great with Henry." She found his gaze and smiled apologetically before continuing. "I don't know how much of that was real and how much was an act to get me to fall for him…" He nodded sympathetically as she continued. "Seems like that keeps happening. I consider myself to be a fairly good judge of character, but it seems like every time I let my walls down, I find out I've been deceived. Walsh, you, heck, even Hook."

"Hook? What happened there?"

"I guess I just thought he was the one person who'd never hidden his intentions - tried to pretty things up or shelter me from the truth. His actions weren't all good or pure, but at least he was honest and he'd never lied to me, made apologies for the less-than-rosy side he had." She paused. "Then I found out about his past with your family."

"Oh," he said flatly. "That."

"I mean, nobody saw fit to tell me that the woman he'd spent his life seeking vengeance for was my child's grandmother. Or, for that matter, that he was responsible for turning you over to the Lost Boys."

Neal shrugged. "I dunno. It's all ancient history at this point. It seemed petty to dredge it up because he declared a romantic rivalry."

"It might have seemed petty to you, but don't you think it would have been nice to know about his destructive history before I allowed him to be around Henry?"

"Okay, fair enough," Neal conceded. "Really though, how would you have reacted if I told you all that stuff? You would have blown me off, figuring I was trying to dissuade you from dating him."

She scowled despite the fact that she knew he was right. "Fine." Another moment, and then she continued. "It just seems like every time something is going right in my life, it turns out it's not what I thought. Our entire year in New York was like that, you know, Henry and I were happy, really happy… then it all got yanked out from under me when I learned yet again that it was all based on falsehoods."

He nodded in understanding. "I can't imagine what you felt when you got your memories back."

"I… yeah. I knew what I had to do, that I needed to go back to Storybrooke, but it doesn't mean I wasn't a bit resentful. To know all that you believed to be true is actually a lie… I've just gone through it over and over again. Feels like I should be immune to it by now," she finished, letting out a bitter chuckle.

He frowned. "I don't think that's something you ever get immune to."

"How do you move on from something like that, though?"

"I don't know, Em. I mean, I guess I kinda talked about it last night, trying to move on with my father. All of us though – you and your parents, me and my father, you and me – we can't undo the damage of the past. We can either abandon the whole thing or press on forward."

She let out a pensive sigh. "I just… it seems so hard to move forward when I don't ever feel like I can quite get my footing, though. I mean, our year in New York? It was yet another year of thinking you'd left. I remember Henry saying to me, after Walsh proposed, that every guy wasn't like his dad, they wouldn't all just leave us. And then after the potion I remembered everything… it's all just confusing. Having two sets of memories, raising Henry, giving him up, knowing my parents in Storybrooke, having you abandon us and then knowing the truth about you… I feel like I can never quite gain equilibrium. I just need to get to a place where I know I won't have the rug yanked out from under me, finding out that everything I believe is a lie. I keep thinking I've found it… how will I know when I truly do?"

"I can't speak for anyone else, Em, but for my part, I can tell you that I'm an open book now. Now that you know the crazy truth about my past, and I don't have to alter the details… anything you want to know, it's yours. I can at least promise you that stability as something to start."

She nodded, contemplating his words. "I appreciate it. I hope you'll understand when it takes me some time to really trust in it. From everyone, not just you."

"Of course, Em. I wouldn't expect anything else."

"Gee, thanks," she replied in mock offense.

"C'mon, you know what I mean!"

"Yeah," she replied. "Yeah, I get you." Looking around, her eyes landed on the lone piece of remaining furniture again. "Of course that still doesn't solve what to do with the end table."

"You could keep it, call it a reminder of the year you spent here with Henry…"

"I'm not shipping that. It's bulky and heavy… it'll cost too damn much."

"Well, how about this. Let's go get these boxes dropped off, and while we do that, you can think about what you want to do with the thing. We can deal with it when we get back. Sound good?"

"Sure," she agreed.

* * *

Several hours later, they had returned and begun a once-over for left behind items in the apartment. From his spot in Henry's room, Neal could hear Emma yelling in the kitchen, so he went to investigate. He walked in to find her standing on a chair, head in the cabinet above the fridge, cursing. "What's wrong?" he asked.

She emerged, a bottle of liquor in each hand. "Forgot I had this. Guess I'll just dump it."

He took the bottles from her and set them on the counter, then offered her a hand to help her step down. "Well that seems wasteful."

"What do you propose I do with half-empty bottles of vodka, then?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Got any glasses left?"

"Seriously? You in need of a drink?"

"Got anything better to do? We're pretty much finished here and our flight home's not 'til tomorrow."

She searched for a moment, making a face as she tried to think of a rebuttal but coming up empty. "All right," she replied, "Why not? But I gotta warn you, I'm not a lightweight anymore."

Neal couldn't help but chuckle. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me." He grabbed the bottles and headed into the living room, setting them on the coffee table as he plopped into the corner of the couch.

Meanwhile, she banged through a few empty cabinets, muttering to herself, until she located a bag of Styrofoam cups and tossed them his way as she let herself drop into the corner opposite him. "You want to do the honors?"

"Sure," he replied, tugging two cups out of the bag and pouring a generous amount into each. "Shall we toast?"

"To what?"

"I dunno… to finally getting you home?"

"Okay," she conceded, grabbing her cup off of the table. "To going home."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, nursing their drinks, until Neal broke the silence. "Hey, I really am sorry about the route it took to get you there."

"Neal, you gotta stop saying you're sorry about everything. I _know_ you're sorry. You've told me a billion times."

"I know, I just feel like if I—"

"Nooo," she protested with a whine. "No more deep angsty conversations!"

"We could turn it into a drinking game. Take a sip every time someone says sorry."

She snorted. "We'd be drunk off our asses in no time flat."

He shrugged. "Are you saying you're not up for the challenge?"

Looking at her now-empty cup, she grabbed the bottle and poured again. "All right, fine. You're on. You know I've never been one to turn down a challenge."

He nodded sharply in approval, then glanced around the apartment. "So we're pretty much all set here, right? We checked all of the cabinets and nothing's left behind."

"Just some napkins where I got these-" she gestured to the cups "-and that," she replied, pointing at the still-present end table.

"Ooh, sorry. I forgot about that," he replied.

She pointedly raised an eyebrow at his 'sorry' as she raised her cup, taking a quick swig of the liquor. "Damnit," he said, lifting his own cup in order to do the same. "I forgot."

"Not surprising," she replied in a mocking tone.

He rolled his eyes and stood up, pulling the table to the center of the room. "So what do we do with this thing?"

"Donate it?" she suggested, not moving from her spot on the couch.

"It's ten on a Friday night, I think the donation places are all closed."

"Maybe we can disassemble it and check it as luggage…"

He gave it a wiggle, then carefully flipped it on its top, examining the area where the legs met the tabletop. "Nope. This sucker's solid. No easy way to take it apart that I can see."

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her refilling her cup once again. "C'mon, you're falling behind," she grinned, nudging his cup towards him. "Don't want me to outdrink you, do you?"

He chuckled. "That would be a first."

"Hey!"

"You used to pass out on half a bottle of wine, Emma. Cheap wine, at that."

"Well," she said, taking another sip, "That was then. This is now. This whole drinking thing was your idea, and I am totally winning."

"Is it a competition?" he asked as he made his way back to the couch.

She shrugged. "Pretty sure it's you who issued the challenge."

"Sorry?" he offered, a glint in his eye.

"That was on purpose, you jerk!"

He shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not." Then a grin crept over his face. "Either way, I'm not sorry for it."

She reached out to give him a good-natured smack. "I'll drink for the first one, but I don't think it counts if you say you're NOT sorry."

They bickered for a while longer, mock apologies leading to another round of refills, before Neal returned to the problem of the end table. "Can't we just leave it in the apartment?"

Emma wrinkled her nose. "Nah, they'll charge me a huge cleaning fee."

"Nobody you know in the city who would want it?"

"Not before we leave for our flight in the morning."

"You're sure you don't want to take it with you?"

She shook her head. "Honestly, it's a reminder of a sham... not something I really _want_ to keep around, no matter how nice it is."

"Maybe you should burn it."

"Burn it?"

"Yeah, y'know... symbolic burning of the past, all the crap you built foundations on that wasn't true."

She raised an eyebrow at him, but he merely shrugged and topped off the clear liquid in her cup. Lifting his own to his lips, he continued. "Yeah, y'know, out with the old, in with the new."

"Where'm I gonna find someplace to burn an end table in New York City?" she replied, the alcohol she'd taken in catching up to her as it finally became evident in her slurred words.

"You got a patio on the roof, right?"

"Neal! That's a terrible idea!" she protested, giggling.

"Nah. I betcha got something up there we could burn it in."

"Well there's a grill…"

"Grill works!"

"Can't fit an end table in a grill!"

"Pfft," he said dismissively. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

"Left it in Neverland," she replied bitterly. Catching herself, she looked at him guiltily. "Oops… sorry."

"No sorries." He waved his hand dismissively as he took a short sip. "We're done with sorries, 'member?"

"Is that one sip or three?" she replied cheekily. "Seriously though, I've had enough adventure for one lifetime. Evil Queen, Peter Pan, Wicked Witch…"

"Nah," he rebutted, "That's not adventure. That's… it's… that's trauma. Trauma sucks. Adventure's fun."

"You think burning an end table in a grill is adventure?"

"I dunno," he replied, with a sparkle in his eye. "Won't know 'til you try it?"

She studied him for a moment, realizing her inhibitions were far too dull due to the copious amounts of alcohol she'd had - and further realizing she was so far gone she actually didn't care. "'Kay," she replied, downing the rest of her cup, "Let's do it."

He hopped up, wobbling slightly, then grabbed two of the table's legs. "C'mon, grab the other side." She rolled her eyes at him before complying, scooping up the other two legs and beginning to walk forward.

"Whoa, wait," he said, nearly being bowled over. "Y'gotta say go or something."

"Ok, go," she said irritably, beginning to walk again.

"Why've I gotta go backwards?" he whined in protest as he stepped unevenly towards the door.

"It was your stupid idea, that's why."

He grumbled in concession as they made their way across the room. "Damnit," he said, stopping in front of the door.

"What? Why're we stopping this time?"

"Don't have a hand for the door. Gotta set my end down for a sec." It was her turn to grouse as he set his side of the table on the ground, swinging open the door as promised. "Ow, damnit!" he exclaimed as a pout overtook his features.

"What _now_?"

"Ran the door over my toe. It hurt!"

"Aw, poor baby. Want me to kiss it better?"

The sparkle returned to his eyes. "Will you?"

"Hell, no. Now quit your whining, pick up the table and let's get it upstairs."

He frowned and huffed out a breath as he bent to lift the table again, backing through the now-open door. "Elevator's left," she instructed, and together they managed to navigate to the roof without significant difficulty.

"Now what?" She looked at him, once they'd set the table down in the center of the rooftop patio.

"Uh," he said, looking from the grill to the end table and back again. "Maybe you're right. Don't think it's gonna fit."

"Oh no," she replied. "We hauled this thing up here, we're gonna make it fit."

He surveyed the roof, contemplating the situation. "Maybe bust it up with this?" he suggested, grabbing a length of pipe off the top of the building's air conditioning unit. This caused her to burst into hysterical laughter as he stood, bewildered, pipe in hand. "What's so funny?"

She struggled for a minute to calm down before she was able to formulate a sentence. "Yep. Pipe'll be good."

"But what's so funny?"

She grabbed the pipe from him. "Already used this pipe, once. Fought off a flying monkey with it. A flying monkey!" He cringed away from the table as she brought the pipe down with a resounding crack, which did little more than dent the tabletop. "Almost married a flying monkey," she muttered under her breath, swinging the pipe again – this time at least marring the wood a bit.

"Uh, Ems, it seems that flying monkey built sturdy furniture."

"Shh," she replied, "You're ruining my concentration." Another whack caused a crack to form across the center of the surface.

"All right, be careful," he said, taking another step backwards. _Thump… thwack_. "Hey Em? You're getting a little carried away there…" he cautioned, as splintered pieces of wood began flying off of the piece.

"Nah," she protested. "It's cathartic! Break it into little pieces. Burn it for all the times things weren't what I thought. Walsh," the pipe came down again as she began listing the occurrences, a solid crack punctuating each word, "life with Henry in New York… my parents… Hook… you…"

As Emma rattled off her list, the table before her was reduced to a pile of rubble. When it was evident that the table was completely destroyed, Neal came behind her as she drew back the pipe for another go and grabbed it, halting her angry tirade. "Hey," he said. "I think it's sufficiently broken."

Startled, she released the pipe as she snapped out of her fit and turned to face him. "Yeah," she said, her emotion sliding from anger to hurt, the fight fading out of her as she surveyed the destroyed furniture, symbolizing the deceptions that had embodied her life. "It's all broken. Definitely broken."

"I think it's time to let the broken pieces go, Emma," he offered softly, walking over to turn the grill on. "What do you say?"

Wordlessly, she nodded, and he lifted the lid of the grill to expose the flames that were flickering inside. She carried over a table leg and slid it in sideways, watching the flames lick at it until it was slowly consumed by the fire. Each of the shards of the table was placed into the fire in this manner, Neal keeping a careful eye to ensure it remained safely contained inside the grill. As she gathered the final splinters of wood off of the rooftop and dropped them into the embers at the bottom of the grill, he met her gaze. "Help any?"

She nodded again. "Yeah. Yeah, I think it did." She braved a small smile. "Thanks."

"Anytime," he replied with an easy shrug of his shoulders. As the last of the wood turned to ash, he shut the gas off and closed the lid before stepping forward to Emma and reaching for her hand. "Hey," he said as he gave it a squeeze. "That part of your life is over, I'm going to make sure of it. No more secrets and lies. Everything will be built on honest truth from now on. Okay?"

She nodded and he loosened his grip on her hand, but to his surprise she continued to hang on. "Thanks," she repeated, sincerity in her voice.

"No need," he replied. "After my part in everything, I owe you that much."

"C'mon," she said, tugging on his hand. "Let's go back downstairs. It's getting cold up here."

* * *

They settled back into their spots on the couch as Neal emptied the last of the liquor into their respective cups. "Might as well finish it," he declared. "Bottoms up!"

"To burning the past and moving towards the future," Emma replied, emptying her drink in one fell swoop. She swallowed hard, the oversized gulp burning her throat as it slid down. Glancing at the man sitting to her left, she decided to take advantage of the liquid courage to clear the air about something that had been gnawing at her for weeks.

"Hey Neal?"

"Hmm?"

"I've got one more bone to pick with you."

"Something else you need to talk about?"

"Honestly?" She inhaled sharply, steeling herself for one last bit of truth. "Yeah."

"Okay?"

"I'm pissed, Neal – about what you said when you were dying."

"At the vault? What did I say?"

"What? No, in the woods." She paused for a moment, confused by his perplexed expression, before remembering that this version of Neal hadn't experienced that version of reality. She groaned loudly in frustration, hating the complication that was their life. Steadying herself, she took a deep breath, thinking for a moment before trying a different tack. "Okay – if you were dying – what would you say to me, what would you tell me?"

He pondered for a moment, choosing his words carefully amidst the alcohol-induced fuzz in his brain. "That I love you." Another moment and then, "And – and that more than anything, I want you to be happy, you and Henry. That you should go find your Tallahassee."

"And that, Neal Cassidy, is why you're an idiot," she replied, her voice louder and sharper than she'd intended. He looked back at her, shocked and confused by her angry tone, but unable to get a word in edgewise before she plunged forward with her words. "Don't you get it? That's what you said to me when you died, exactly that, to go find Tallahassee. Except, there _is_ no Tallahassee without you - no such thing. If I'd never found you again, or even if – even if we hadn't been able to get you back – you know, maybe I could have found someone else, maybe I could have been happy, okay? If you'd asked me to be happy, I could have done that. But I never, never could have found Tallahassee. That was _our_ thing – you and me – it was _ours_. It's not something I could ever find with anybody else, no matter what."

He began to protest. "Em, I—"

"No, I'm not done. See, here's the thing. You know how I know that? I know that because I _tried_ to find it, that home and happiness that was promised. I spent two years down there, after I got out of prison, searching for it. Even in my cursed memories, Henry and I spent some time there. But I never found what I was looking for, nothing that even came close to resembling the sense of home I had _living in a freaking car_ with you. So for your dying words to me to be to go find it without you – it really pisses me off. Because, I mean, I couldn't say no - you were dying, right? You can't say no to a dying man. You made me promise to do something that was impossible."

"I… I'm sorry?" he finally spoke up. Emma knew it wasn't exactly fair, to light into the guy for something he technically hadn't done, but she figured the fact that he _would_ have was close enough for now, since she was on a roll and wasn't inclined to stop anytime soon.

She shook her head, voice pitching up again. "I don't _want_ an apology. I'm so _sick_ of apologies. I want you to _get it_. I told my parents, in Neverland – when we thought you were dead – " she let out a harsh laugh at the irony of a conversation about all of the different times he'd died on her – "that losing you then didn't make me sad, it pissed me off. I had so much to say to you then, and I never got the chance. Then I got you back, you _weren't_ dead, and I _still_ didn't get the chance, because we had like five seconds and then you were gone _again_. We didn't even have time to meet for lunch before something else blew up in our faces. So I'm telling you now."

"Okay," he said softly, her words strong enough to draw his focus despite his inebriated state. "Go ahead."

"We lost ten years together – more than ten years, eleven, twelve years – in which I spent every day thinking I'd been played and you'd never loved me like I'd loved you. Or maybe even never loved me at all, I don't know. And then I found out that was totally untrue, you DID love me, but we were part of some larger scheme and you'd been screwed over almost as much as I was. And that pisses me off. And it still hurt like hell, but damnit all if I everything I had pushed down all those years didn't come rushing right back in New York. That was absolutely terrifying, all of the walls I'd spent all of those years building – just gone. I don't know how you always get right around them but you do. It's like they just crumble, instantly, when you're around... turn to styrofoam, just like these cups." She stared at the empty cup she'd been holding, turning it around in her hand, as she contemplated the remainder of her statement. "And somehow, no matter what I try to do, I'm unable to stop loving you. Ironic, isn't it?" She looked at him, bloodshot eyes meeting his gaze. "It's so hard for me to love - I've loved so few people in my life – but when I want to _stop_ loving someone, I can't." He had no response to her statement, other than to hold her gaze until she again moved it to the cup she was fiddling with. "So I'm stuck loving you, and I think I could handle that, except that every time I turn around you're gone again. Then I'm left trying to pick up the pieces and… I just can't do it anymore." She took a deep breath, finding his eyes yet again as she found the courage to lay out what was on her heart.

"So here's the bottom line for me. You don't get to do that. You don't get to do that leaving shit anymore. The watches, the portal, the woods – you have to stop _leaving me_ because _you_ decide it's the best thing for me. You don't get to make those decisions anymore, you have got to stop it, okay? _You_ don't get to make the decision for _us_. If you want there to be an "us," you have to promise me that _we_ will make those decisions from here on out."

He nodded slowly, contemplating her words. "Okay," he replied softly. "Okay. I was just trying to do what was best for you."

"I know," she replied, setting her jaw as she tried not to let tears escape. "That's what people do in my life, see? They try to give me my best chance, but nobody ever bothers to ask me what _I_ think. You, August, my parents…" She trailed off, drawing in a shaky breath before continuing. "And I'd like to say I appreciate it, but inevitably it ends with me getting left, getting hurt and so honestly, I really don't. Would it have been worse for me to be cursed with my parents? To spend those ten years with you before going to Storybrooke? To fall through the portal with you to tend to your gunshot wound? I'll never know, maybe what happened _is_ better, but what I do know is that I'm not sure I can go through it again. If you want to try to make a go of something here, you have to promise me – _swear_ to me – that you'll stay this time. That if something comes up, we'll figure it out together."

He nodded again, and reached out to put a hand on her arm. "Okay. I promise, Emma. I promise."

She smiled, tears threatening to fall, and wordlessly moved towards him on the couch. Slowly, cautiously, he slid a hand to her back, surprised when she didn't flinch away, as he met her gaze. "It destroyed me to leave you. Each and every time."

"I know."

"I just couldn't see a way my staying wouldn't make it worse."

She let out a small laugh as she moved her gaze to her knees, shaking her head at how much he still didn't _get it_. A few moments passed before she responded. "Don't you see? It never would have been worse, because I would have had _you_."

He had no response for that, and so they sat, quietly, for several minutes. The silence was broken by the soft rustling of Neal digging a hand into the pocket of his jeans. As he pulled his fist out, he addressed Emma. "Here. I've hung onto this since the last time we were here in New York. When we were at my father's castle, I told Belle it was supposed to represent our life together. Maybe it still can." Moving the fist to rest in front of her, he opened his hand to reveal a tangled mess of necklace, the swan pendant lying nestled in the center.

"How did you…" She squinted in confusion. "I mean, I noticed that it was missing the other day, but I figured I just left it in the room at Granny's somehow. How did you end up with it?"

"I've had it ever since you threw it at me in the bar."

"But you gave it to me when – oh."

"Well, let me give it to you again now," he replied with a smile, holding the necklace out to her.

She looked back at him, recalling how he'd looked that day in the woods when he last returned the necklace and how he looked now – cheeks flushed, eyes dancing with light, a smile on his face – and she couldn't help but pull him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around her in return, taking a moment to inhale deeply, thankful for the opportunity to do so once again, no matter how tentatively.

She pulled back and picked up the necklace, regarding it curiously. "You had this thing with you at your father's castle? In the Enchanted Forest?"

"It's been with me pretty much everywhere since last time we were here in New York." Noting her expression of surprise, he continued. "This thing's jumped realms for you, Emma. I don't really get it, either, to be honest, but it's been in my pocket pretty much constantly since New York. Belle said it survived because it was given out of true love."

"Oh," she replied, clearly unsure of how to respond to the statement.

"Hey," he gave her a gentle nudge. "You already knew that, remember?"

She rolled her eyes a bit. "Who decides these things, anyways?" He answered her with a simple shrug. "True love's kiss, happily ever after… it's a whole lot harder than it seems in the storybooks."

"I seem to remember someone telling me once that if true love was easy-"

"-we'd all have it," she interrupted him, rolling her eyes again. "Yeah. So I've heard. When does that hard work give way to the happy ending, though? I mean, how do you know when you've found Tallahassee?"

He thought for a minute, his brow furrowed in contemplating. "Maybe we should go."

"Go?"

"Yeah, you know, just for a visit. You, me, and Henry."

"Go _where_?"

"Tallahassee."

She was silent for a minute, then reached out cautiously with her words. "You really think that's a good idea?"

He shrugged. "Maybe it would help, give you closure, let us move on. If we assign it some actual memories instead of leaving it as this unattainable pipe dream… maybe it would make it easier to let it go and redefine it."

"Huh," she said, contemplating. "I guess I'd never considered it as an option."

He sent her a wry smile. "I'm not sure it's ever really _been_ an option before now."

"So, what, just like a… screwed up family vacation or something?"

Another shrug. "When's the last time you took a vacation?"

"I, uh… hmm. Maybe never."

"I bet Henry's never had one, either, since nobody else can leave Storybrooke."

"I dunno, Neal…"

"C'mon, we should take the kid. Road trip, the beach - he'd love it!"

She sighed. "Don't you think that would be confusing for him?"

"He's a smart kid, Em, he'll know what's what."

"How will he know what's what when _I_ don't even know what's what?"

Neal sat silently for a moment, finally reaching out to place a hand on her arm before responding. "We'll figure it out, Emma. I can't promise everything will be perfect but I just… if you'll let me, we'll figure it out."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

A few weeks after they returned from New York, Emma and Neal pulled up to Regina's for their trip, half an hour behind schedule. Henry was out the door before the car was even stopped. "Whoa, buddy," Neal greeted him, window down. "Wait 'til the car's in park, okay?"

"I'm just excited, Dad! My first real road trip!"

"I know bud," he replied, stepping out of the car to toss Henry's suitcase in the trunk.

"Hey, I'm gonna go talk to Regina for a sec, okay?" Emma said, getting out of the car as well. "Can you get him settled?"

Neal nodded and she made her way up the walk, where she found Henry's other mother leaning against the front door, watching him.

"Hey," Emma greeted her.

Regina smiled tightly - a wordless, aloof greeting.

"I, uh… I just wanted to say thanks for letting us take Henry on this trip. I think it'll be good for all of us."

Regina shrugged. "Legally, he's yours, Miss Swan. I had no grounds to object."

"Listen, we both know that's not true. You could have made life very difficult if you didn't want him going."

"I suppose," she conceded.

"We'll be back next weekend, and I figured we'd drop him back by on our way into town. We'll call when we're close. Sound okay?"

Regina nodded, and Emma waved as she departed down the walk.

* * *

"What do you think they're talking about?" Henry asked his father as he jimmied the suitcase into the overstuffed trunk.

Neal shot him a look out of the corner of his eye, assuring Henry that he already knew the answer to the question.

"Yeah, that's what I figured. Me." He let out a sigh, far more burdened-sounding than one should from a young teenager. "Why do they always have to have drama?"

"Who says they're having drama, Henry?" Neal replied as he slid the passenger seat forward, allowing Henry to climb into the back seat.

"It's _always_ drama with those two when it comes to me," he said, clambering into the backseat of the yellow car. He tossed his backpack onto the bench next to him and yanked the front seat back into position, allowing his father climb back into the car and shut the door behind him.

"Hey, they don't look angry. A bit uncomfortable, maybe," he said with a chuckle as he watched both women talking awkwardly, "but not angry."

"I suppose," Henry replied, watching his mother - his birth mother - come down the walk as quickly as she could without actually running.

"Wave bye to Regina," she said as she climbed into the car.

"Bye Mom!" Henry hollered, sticking a hand out of the front window as he plastered his face up against the glass next to him. Regina mustered up a smile and waved to her son, trying to fight her mounting feelings of exclusion by reminding herself that this was the best thing for _him_.

"Everybody ready?" Emma asked, as she put the car into gear.

"Yep!" came the enthusiastic response from the backseat, as Neal nodded next to her.

As Emma headed down the road and crossed the town line, it dawned on her that this was the first time that the three of them had been together in the car that had held such importance in their lives - at least since that fateful day in Portland, in which Henry was not even a whisper of a thought. She glanced at the boy in the rearview, marveling out how far they'd all come, separated for over a decade only for their insane lives to pull them back together.

They drove in silence for a while until Henry tried to shift in the backseat and found himself kicking something underfoot. "Hey, what's this?" he asked, lifting the wrapped parcel he'd found on the floorboard next to his feet.

"Road trip present for you," his father answered.

"For me?"

"It's a long trip, I thought you might want something to do other than play on your Game Boy."

"Especially since the battery's about ready to die," he lamented. "Can I open it?"

"Of course," his dad replied with a smile.

He opened the package to find a cellophane-wrapped set of books. "A Wrinkle in Time?" he read off the first book in the series. "That's an… unusual title," he continued.

"Belle suggested it. I looked up the summary and it sounded like something right up your alley."

Henry nodded in acceptance. "Thanks, Dad," he said, peeling off the cellophane and settling himself crosswise across the backseat as he opened the book.

* * *

A couple of hours into the drive they stopped to gas up the car. Emma and Henry popped out to use the restroom while Neal filled the tank, and they had headed back to the car before he even made it inside to pay. This made it easy for him to pick up a few small items unbeknownst to them before sliding into the driver's seat, his characteristic grin cluing Emma in that something was up. "Yes?" she said, inviting him to spill it.

"I got you a present," he said with a smile.

She closed her eyes briefly, hoping his sense of 'for old time's sake' did not extend to resurrecting his sticky fingers. "Please tell me you mean bought," she said quietly, eyes lighting to the ever-observant teen in the back seat as she hoped he remained wrapped up in the book he was currently devouring.

"Of course," Neal replied, his expression torn between amusement and hurt. "I'd never – especially not with Henry –"

"What about me?" came a voice from the backseat, their son perking up at the sound of his name.

"Nothing, kid," both parents replied in unison, causing Henry to laugh at them before returning to his story.

"Here," said Neal, handing her a card of ponytail holders. "Legal and everything."

"Thanks," she replied, tentatively accepting the gift. "I hardly ever…"

"Use those anymore? I've noticed. I miss the ponytail." His shrug was indifferent but his nerves were betrayed by the way he was unconsciously chewing on his bottom lip.

She shook her head, discretely sliding the hair ties into the door's pocket. "I don't really wear my hair like that anymore… not since Portland." The expression on her face indicated that he had hit a nerve he hadn't even realized was there.

"I'm sorry," he said with a small half-smile, "I didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

"It's okay," she reciprocated the smile. "Just been a long time."

They drove in silence for a few minutes, Neal watching Emma out of the corner of his eye, and to his relief she seemed to recover from the unexpected memories with a minimal of trouble, sinking back into the seat and resuming her chatter with Henry about the roadside sights.

As they merged onto the highway, Henry popped his head between the seats. "Hey, can we listen to some music or something?" he asked, one elbow propped on each seat, glancing between his parents.

"Sure," his dad replied. "I've got some on my phone," he told Emma, who picked it up from its resting spot between the seats and started thumbing through the listing.

"Lou Reed!" she exclaimed. "You have it!"

"Dad, you like Lou Reed too? Mom loves him," Henry said.

Neal chuckled. "I know she does, bud. Who do you think introduced her to his music?"

"You?"

"Yep. Not that she appreciated it at first…"

"Hey now! It was just… different than what I was used to," Emma defended.

"You mean… it was actual music and not a boy band?" She shot him a glare. "Anyways… your mom and I had been, uh, hanging out for a couple of days, and she was flipping through the radio one day, couldn't find anything she liked. So she asked me if we could put on a CD or something, and I laughed at her."

"Which, if I recall correctly, just about got you shoved out of the car at the next stoplight."

"Until I explained that the car was way too old to have a CD player, and if she didn't like the radio, her only other option was the Lou Reed 8-track jammed into the tape deck."

"What's an 8-track?" Henry asked, his childlike innocence shining through.

"Uh…" He glanced at Emma, who shrugged in deference. "It's like a tape, buddy. You know what that is, right?" Henry nodded. "It's like an older version of a tape, little bit bigger." He nodded again, and Neal continued on with his story. "So we put on Lou Reed and got about half a song in before your mom turned up her nose at it. But there was nothing else so we left it on… anyways, it grew on her, I guess. It was completely stuck in the player so it was that or the radio. And then, your mom hated this one song, so she'd just wind it back and listen to the one before again, since it was her favorite…"

"Which one?"

"Her favorite? Charley's Girl."

"That's _still_ her favorite!" Henry exclaimed with excitement, eating up the opportunity to hear about his parents when they were younger. "We listened to it a lot in New York."

Neal shot Emma a look of surprise and found her looking sheepish, clearly embarrassed to have this bit of sentimentality exposed.

"Well, the entire tape only had about six or eight songs on it but with all of the skipping we mostly we just listened to that one. Over, and over, and over…"

"I fixed it though!"

"She did. Here's the funny part of the story, Henry. After about a month of listening to that tape, she finally got fed up and jimmied the thing out of there. Two days after that, she decided she missed Charley's Girl and stuck the darned thing back in!"

"You were so mad at me…"

"I kinda was."

"I didn't know it would get stuck again!" she said with a laugh.

"Of course then we realized since we didn't actually have any other 8-tracks it didn't really matter, so we just left it…"

Henry propped his chin on his fists and contentedly listened to his parents banter back and forth about their time together so long ago. When he'd gone to get Emma all those years prior, he hardly could have hoped they'd end up here like this, all three happy and spending time together. Outside of finally getting to visit the Enchanted Forest, he was reasonably certain that this trip was the best thing ever.

* * *

Later that night they drove on while Henry snored softly, stretched out across the backseat, having fallen asleep after the last time they'd stopped to switch drivers. From her spot behind the wheel, Emma caught Neal out of the corner of her eye, absentmindedly playing with the hair ties he'd given her earlier in the day. She released a drawn-out sigh before breaking the silence. "You really can't do that, Neal."

"What?"

"Assume that just because we're hanging out again, or whatever, that things are back to how they used to be."

"I didn't –"

"You kinda did."

"I'm sorry you felt that way, Em. I didn't mean to."

"Seriously, enough with the sorries."

"You're yelling at me, what did you want me to do then, if not apologize?"

"I wanted –" she stopped mid-statement, becoming aware of the rise in the volume of her voice and glancing back at Henry to ensure he was still asleep. Spying an approaching exit, she put on her blinker and abruptly changed the subject. "We need to get him into a bed."

"I dunno, he looks awfully comfy back there," Neal joked in an attempt to lighten the mood as he sent a fond glance at the boy sprawled across the backseat.

"You'll have to pardon me if I'd rather he _didn't_ know what it was like to live out of a car," she replied, taking Neal aback with her ill-humored response. Confounded, he opted to sit silently until she'd found a hotel that was to her liking and gotten them a room. He retrieved the suitcases while Emma guided Henry to a bed, then followed her as she motioned for him to join her on the patio. Once they'd stepped outside, with the door closed solidly behind them, he broached the subject of her attitude in the car.

"You want to tell me what's going on, Em?"

"I'm not sure this trip was such a good idea, Neal."

"Okay?"

"It's all a little much, the proximity, the car, heading to Tallahasse…" Her voice caught in her throat as the statement trailed off and she studied the ground for a while, considering her next words as he waited patiently for her to continue. Looking up at him, she tried to explain her hesitance. "I didn't need anything when I met you, except to survive. And I was doing that, I was doing okay. And then I met you and you gave me everything I never knew I needed… my first friend, my first love, the promise of a home… even the child I never knew I wanted. And then you took it all away. So when I got out of prison, I found myself searching for these things I'd never needed before. I went to Tallahassee, I spent two years trying to find ANYTHING that resembled how I'd felt in those months we'd been together. There was nothing there for me, so I closed all of those doors for myself, convinced myself that was all I'd ever know of a home and a family, and it became my mission to make sure other people got the justice I couldn't have. I couldn't find you, I couldn't find my parents – but I could find people who had hurt someone by running out on them."

She looked at her feet for a while, and then back at him. "You broke me, Neal." She could tell it knocked the wind out of him, to hear her finally say it – a physical punch probably would have done less damage – but she was finally able to get it out. "Losing you, then giving up Henry… it shattered me. I do still love you – I never stopped, you know that – but this is still going to be a hard road back from that. We have to put the pieces back together, and that will take me some time. I need to learn to trust you again." Her voice dropped to a whisper, then. "Just please stay with me while I do that… I couldn't bear to lose you again."

True to his nature, he stepped forward and enveloped her in a hug – safe and warm on his chest. He buried his nose in her hair and she could feel his tears permeating through to her scalp. "I'm sorry, Emma… I'm so, so sorry. I know you don't want to hear it, but I have to say it. What August told me – I only wanted to get you to your family."

She pulled back slightly to look up at him. "And you did, in the end, and of course I'm thankful for that. But what I don't think you understood then – I'm not sure you understand now – is that you're the only family I needed. Why didn't you have faith that you were enough?"

She could hear him take shaky breaths in and out for a solid minute before he answered, absent of his usual carefree bravado. "How could I be? I wasn't enough for my mother to stay, I wasn't enough for my father to choose me over his power. I was a thief, a liar, I had nothing to offer you. Why should you be stuck in that life when you could have everything you'd ever wanted – find the parents you'd always longed for, answer those questions of why they'd given you up, how you'd come to be found on the side of the road. I had nothing to offer you that could compete with that, Emma. Nothing."

"Not true," she pulled back, challenging him as she met his gaze. "You had YOU. You're what I wanted, what I needed. And you said I was what you wanted…"

"More than anything."

"And yet you left." It was his turn to look at his feet now, as she soldiered forward. "It was just… everything… it was there and then it was gone. And for two months, I was alone again - just me, in a cinderblock cell, biding my time until I could get out and scrape together a semblance of a life. Hoping that maybe the whole thing had been a misunderstanding. Until one day –" she hesitated, not wanting to dump on him further, not needing to harp again about how he hadn't been there for Henry.

He looked up at her, waiting a moment in the silence to see if she'd continue, watching as she studied the cluster of trees that lay just beyond the edge of the patio. When she didn't, he prompted her. "Tell me about it?" She shook her head, no, biting her lip and he knew without seeing her face that she was trying to keep tears from falling. "Have you ever told anyone?" She answered with another shake of the head, and the answer did not surprise him. He reached out to lay a comforting hand on her arm, and asked again. "Tell me how you found out about Henry?"

She looked back at him, finally, and he saw that she'd lost the battle with the tears. He reached up to brush them away with a thumb and bit back the instinct to say "I'm sorry" for the millionth time. Her lower lip remained clamped firmly between her teeth, but at the action he saw the ghost of a smile wash across her face. It only lasted a moment, but with it left the vacant, terrified look her in eyes and to his surprise she started to relay the story.

"I kept getting sick… I didn't eat a lot and just figured it was stress or whatever but there was finally a warden who had enough. She sent me to the nurse they had there, who asked me all kinds of questions – I think at first she thought I had an eating disorder or was trying for sympathy or something. Then she lit onto the questions about my last period, all I could think was, 'Who keeps track of that when you're living out of a car?' We didn't even know what day it was half the time, you know?" He sent her a small smile of camaraderie, recalling precisely what she was talking about. "When she asked if I'd had one in the two months since I'd gotten there, I knew – I just knew. I hadn't realized I'd been in so long, the days all ran together, but two months and… it just made so much sense. She had me take a test but I didn't need to wait to see what it said to know.

"So once they were satisfied I wasn't dying of the plague or making myself puke for no reason, they sent me back to my cell, test in hand. And I didn't know what to think, then, whether I should be happy or sad or terrified – in the end I guess it was kind of all three, at points. So I just sat there, cross-legged on my cot, and stared at this plastic stick for, I dunno, probably a couple of hours. Which is when I got the keys."

"Oh, Emma," he said, his voice thick with regret, barely biting back the apology that leapt to mind. "Can I ask? When—"

"A couple of days before the watches, I guess."

He shook his head. "We should have been more careful," he responded, and couldn't hold back the "I'm sorry," that followed.

"For Henry?" she replied, raising her eyebrow and tilting her head towards the hotel room where the boy slept. "Don't be."

A small smile. "Well, I guess I can't be sorry for _Henry_, I don't really regret him. But… for you having to go through that, alone."

"I wondered, a lot, how different it would have been if – if…"

"If we'd gotten to Tallahassee?"

"Yeah." She paused and then, "Even with twenty thousand dollars, I'm not sure we were in any place to raise a kid. I was just a kid myself, what did I know about raising one?"

He frowned slightly. "We would've figured it out."

"I don't know, Neal. Regina was able to give him everything-"

"Everything? Obviously not - he went to find you. _She_ wasn't you. Material things aren't everything. You know that better than anyone."

She bit her lip, tears threatening to fall again. "I really wish you'd been there." She stood silent for a moment before expounding on the thought. "Having even one voice that had faith in me might have made a difference. They had all of these classes and counseling sessions they made me do, and every last one of them worked to plant the idea that I had no business keeping him. By the time he was born, I'd been thoroughly convinced that if I wanted to do right by him, there was no other option." She blew out a long, steady breath. "Carrying him had been such a bundle of conflicts anyways... I'd lay there at night and feel him rolling around under my skin - and part of me desperately wanted to cling to him as this piece of you that you'd unknowingly left behind. But then some nights it was like he was this tiny adversary, serving as a constant reminder of the pain of you leaving, keeping me tied to you even when I just wanted to be done. In those moments, it was everything I could do not to resent him. But it wasn't his fault, he didn't ask to be created, to be brought into this crazy screwed-up situation. And at the end of the day he was my child, and I loved him in ways I couldn't begin to comprehend. If I had kept him..." she shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. "I loved him enough to give him up. I had to give him a shot at the family I hadn't had and couldn't give him.

"It doesn't matter now, really. The past is the past and it can't be changed." She caught herself and chuckled. "Well... I guess it can, but we won't be going that road," she said with a shake of her head and a faint smile.

"You did what you felt was best," he replied. "I don't fault you for it. I hate that I wasn't around for the two of you, but I don't doubt that you made the right choice given the circumstances."

"Yeah," she replied. "Regina's fake memories are nice and all but... it's a bit of a pipe dream. I don't think it really would have all gone down as smoothly as she had me believing it did."

It was his turn to shake his head. "That's gotta be tough, Em. The two sets of memories thing."

She shrugged. "I'll manage."

"Listen, if this trip is too tough... we can always go back home. Or change destinations," he offered. "I thought it would be helpful. I don't want it to cause you more pain."

"No, I wouldn't want to disappoint Henry like that. He's so excited... I'll be fine. I just wasn't prepared for the flood of emotions from heading there, this time with you guys instead of without you."

"If you're sure..." he offered tentatively.

"I think so," she said, a small smile serving as a peace offering.

"We should probably get to bed, then. Long drive again tomorrow."

They returned to the room and Neal chuckled as he saw Henry spread out, somehow occupying every square inch of the double bed. Emma groaned before walking over to give him a gentle shove. "Hey, kid. You gotta move over, your Dad needs some space too."

He muttered as he rolled over, never really waking up. Emma looked over at Neal, gathering his bedclothes, and told him, "Kid sleeps like a rock. Definitely got that from you."

He laughed as he headed into the bathroom, grateful that despite the past he got to spend time learning these things about his child in the present.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

The next morning, the family drove down the road in a companionable silence, each member lost in their own thoughts. Seemingly out of nowhere, Henry appeared between the front seats with a question. "So… how come you guys never told me how you met?"

Startled, his parents glanced at him in tandem before looking at each other. After a few moments of silent conversation, it was his mother who answered him. "I'm not sure you're quite ready for that story yet, kid."

"Oh come on Mom, it can't be that bad. Plus you promised you wouldn't lie any more…" he trailed off, flashing a mischievous smile her way.

"Okay, kid, telling you you're ready for something does not equate a lie. I haven't lied to you about how your dad and I met, I just haven't told you. There's a difference." She looked at Neal with a silent plea for assistance, but he merely shrugged. "You're terrible at this!" she exclaimed, laughing. "You're supposed to back me up!"

"I just don't think it's so terrible, that's all. After all the kid's been through, it's really not such a traumatic story."

"Oh it's not, is it?" She shook her head. "Fine. Henry, I actually met your dad in this very car. I got in it one day, and he was sleeping in the backseat." She raised an eyebrow at Neal. "There, you happy?"

"Wait, why was he—" Henry began, confused, but his question was lost in the midst of his parents' banter.

"Way to misrepresent it, Em," Neal said with a laugh. He locked eyes with Henry in the rearview as he addressed him. "That's not exactly how it went down, Henry. While it's true that I was sleeping in the backseat when your mom got in the car, the part that she left out is that it was my car that she got into."

"What? Why was Mom—"

"Okay, but the fact that it was _your_ car was a bit open to interpretation, there, buddy," Emma needled, ignoring the questions from the backseat. "You got it the same way that I did!"

"Well at least I had the keys!"

"What are you guys even talking about?"

"Nothing," they replied in unison.

"Can you start at the beginning? Dad was sleeping in the car. It was his car? So Mom, did you get in by accident? Did you have another one like it? Dad, why were you sleeping in here anyways?"

Emma sighed. "This is exactly what I _didn't _want to have to explain to him," she told Neal.

"All right, all right, but now we need to explain the whole thing. Henry," he began, "First I want to tell you that your mom and I aren't proud of what we did. It's been a long time and we made some really poor choices back then, okay? I don't want you thinking our old life was cool or whatever."

"I dunno, I kinda liked it," Emma muttered sullenly under her breath.

Neal shot her a look and then continued. "Yes, I was sleeping in the car. I didn't really have anywhere else to sleep, no apartment or anything. So then your mom comes along and tries to steal the car—"

"Mom stole a car?!"

"Wait, it gets better," she replied, beginning to get into the story as she resigned herself to the fact that it was being told against her better judgment.

"Yeah, she sort of stole the car. The problem is, I was there in the back seat, and I kinda scared her when I sat up."

Emma turned to Neal. "Did I ever tell you he did that to me once?" she said, pointing a thumb over her shoulder at the boy in the backseat.

"No," he chuckled. "Deja vu?"

"All over again," she replied.

"Well, she wouldn't let me come with her!" Henry defended himself. "Anyways," he forged ahead before either parent could get a reprimand out, "What happened after you scared her?"

Emma bit her lip and cringed a bit. "I kinda ran a stop sign."

"Uh oh."

"I know, right?" his father chimed in, stifling a laugh. "I told her to keep her eyes on the road!"

"Seriously, next time somebody jumps out of the back seat and asks you out, you try to concentrate on your driving."

"He asked you out? After you stole his car?"

Emma looked pointedly at Neal, who ignored the question and continued the story. "So then this cop pulls us over, and here's your mom with a screwdriver in the ignition-"

"What's the screwdriver for?"

"Crap," Neal said as he found himself on the receiving end of a death glare from Emma.

"Can you at least _try _to keep it to the PG-13 version of the story?"

"It's just a thing, kid. Doesn't matter," he continued, rushing to finish the story as quickly as possible before he got himself in more trouble. "So the cop pulls us over and I had to pretend I was trying to teach her how to drive stick shift, and that's why she missed the stop. Somehow he bought it, and then your mom agreed to go on a date with me." He looked at Emma. "There. Happy?"

"Oh no," she replied, "You don't get out of this as the hero. See, Henry, the piece your dad left out of the story is that the reason he was so worried about getting pulled over is that it wasn't his car, either."

"Dad stole the car, too? You stole a stolen car?"

"Yeah, kid. Yeah, I did. Can't say I'm proud of it, exactly, and I better not EVER catch you trying a stunt like that."

"Ever," his father added.

"See? THAT is how the two-parent thing works. You back me up."

"I agreed this time! I'm not backing you up if I don't agree!"

"It's all about a united front, Neal. If we disagree, we gotta talk about it when he's not around."

"Since when are you an expert on this sort of stuff?"

"I did some reading on it during our year away. Apparently in our cursed memories I was super-mom or something."

"Are we stopping soon?" Henry interrupted, quickly tiring of the argument. "I'm hungry."

"Next exit's in three miles. How do burgers sound?"

* * *

"Want me to drive for a while?" Emma asked as they returned to the car after lunch.

"Nah, I'm good," Neal replied, declining with a casual wave of his hand.

"Can I take a turn?" Henry piped up, his mischievous grin making another appearance.

"No!" both of his parents answered in unison, exasperation written all Emma's face.

"I am going to _kill _my father for putting that idea in his head," she said under her breath as Henry crawled into the back seat, causing Neal to laugh.

"Pretty sure that's a typical thing for kids to ask, Em, what's your father got to do with it?"

She swung the door shut, blocking Henry from hearing their conversation. "He and my mother were so desperate to prove that they were 'cool' that he let Henry drive his truck."

"He what?!"

"Now the kid thinks he knows how to drive. Nevermind that they ran over a mailbox and I had to clean up that mess. Oh, I was NOT pleased."

"Yeah, I imagine not," Neal said with a shake of his head.

"Oh, but here's the best part," she said, lowering her voice. "You'll appreciate this one, especially given our conversation earlier. A few days after that stunt, he got pissed at me and decided he wanted to go back to New York. So he told me he wanted to get something out of the car and asked me for the keys."

"Let me guess. So he could take it?"

"Yep," she replied, trying not to laugh. "I know it shouldn't be funny, but…"

"Yeah, that's our kid all right. I had no idea that was a genetic trait."

"Me either," she replied. "He's got a knack for stuff like that though. Makes me a little concerned what else we might have passed on."

"Whatever it is, something tells me we're in for a wild ride as he hits his teenage years," he said, rubbing his forehead. "C'mon, we should get back on the road," he said, joining Henry in the car.

"So how much further to Jacksonville?" Henry asked as his parents got in.

"Jacksonville?"

"Yeah, that's where we're going, right? Florida?"

"No," Emma replied, her brow furrowing. "Well yes but - right state, wrong city. We're headed to Tallahassee."

"Oh," Henry said. "Why there?"

His parents exchanged a glance before his mother continued. "It's kind of important to your dad and me. It's – well, I guess it's where we would have ended up if everything had worked out… back before you came along. Your Dad thought it might be good for us all to go."

"So I would have grown up there? I mean… if Dad hadn't left… and you guys went there… you would have kept me, right?"

Emma thought for a minute before answering. "That's hard to know, kid. I've asked myself the same question lots of times. I think the best answer I can give you is that we probably would have, yeah." She turned in her seat to face him before continuing. "Even if we had, though, there's no way to know how it would have all turned out. You would have been the most important thing to us – you have always been the most important thing – but your dad and I made a lot of bad decisions back then. We didn't have a lot—"

"Like Dad didn't have an apartment?"

"Right, like that. You know that when I gave you up, it was because it was your best chance. It's impossible to know how things might have been different if your dad hadn't had to leave. I don't know if we would have been your best chance." She sat silent, contemplating her next words for a moment before continuing. "The night I met your dad –"

"The night you stole his car?"

"It was after that, but yeah. That night, he talked about how you can't go back. I've thought a lot about that conversation over the years, but just recently have I understood what he meant by that. I don't know what would have happened in the past, but it kind of doesn't matter. If we'd kept you, you wouldn't have known Regina, you know, and would that really be better for you?"

Henry thought about this for a few moments, and Emma could practically see him turning it over in his mind. Neal took advantage of the silence to add his own thoughts. "Bud, what I've learned is that you can't dwell on the past. I was angry for a lot of years at my dad, for things he'd done, and I'm still working through some of that. But you know, if he hadn't done that stuff, I wouldn't know your mom. And we wouldn't have you. And I gotta tell you, a lot of what I went through is worth it, if it means having you guys. Your mom's not kidding when she says you're the most important thing. Whatever different path might have happened, that never would have changed."

Henry nodded pensively. "So Tallahassee, huh?"

"Yeah, kid. Tallahassee."

* * *

They drove late into the night, Neal back at the wheel and Emma and Henry both asleep. He found himself staring at his family as much as the road, grateful that the lack of traffic allowed for this distraction. After a few hours, Emma awoke and sent him a sleepy smile, taking him back to all of the nights he'd seen that tired smile shown his way in this very same car, a lifetime ago back in Portland. The memory was interrupted as Henry shuffled into a new position in the back seat, the noise of the extra passenger reminding him that they were light years away from those naïve kids. He watched her look back at their son, moving in his sleep to curl against the window, and marveled at the expression on her face. Just when he thought he couldn't love her more, watching her with Henry made him realize he was mistaken. She glanced up at him and he finally voiced a question he'd long wondered about.

"Did you ever want kids? I mean, before – before Henry."

"I hadn't thought about it, honestly. You?"

He fidgeted and looked down. "I guess I always figured that I'd have a couple. I mean, I just know – all of those years I was stuck in that cave in Neverland – I swore that if I ever had a son, I would never, ever let him feel like I did." He cast a glance in the rearview mirror at the sleeping boy in the back. "It's been so much more complicated in practice… it seemed like such an easy vow when I was perpetually fourteen." His eyes went back to his lap as his chin dropped. "I hate that he's had to lose me… more than once. I can't let that happen again."

"Hey," she said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It's totally different. _Totally_ different. You've never chosen anything over him – you've always been thinking of him. When you went through the portal, when we went to New York – it was to protect Henry, to give him his best shot. It's not the same as your father letting you go out of fear. Not even in the same ballpark. Henry's a smart kid. He knows you love him."

"I guess," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching up with false confidence. "I would do anything for that kid. I just need for him to know that."

"He does. I promise, he does."

They sat in silence for a few moments, before he went back to his original question. "You'd really never thought about whether you wanted kids? Not as a little girl, not –" his voice grew almost whisper-quiet, "-not when we talked about Tallahassee?"

Her brow furrowed in thought. "When you don't know where you're going next – when you live the life I lived, moving place to place first in the foster system and then with you in Portland – it's hard to think of anything beyond that. Kind of impossible to think about adding someone else's life when you can hardly sustain your own. So no, I can honestly say I'd never considered it. I was just a kid myself when we met… and then there was Henry." She drew in a breath, choosing her next words carefully. "And the day he was born, once they took him away, I knew – I knew he'd be my only child, always. I couldn't be his mother, and if I couldn't be his mother, I couldn't be anyone's mother." She drew her knees up into the seat subconsciously as she curled against the door, and his heart broke all over again as he glanced over at her.

"I'm sorry…" he said on an exhale, almost involuntarily. Those words sounded so hollow, and he'd said them so often. He couldn't believe he'd found yet another thing he'd taken away from her – not just Henry, but the desire to have any children at all.

She smiled gently in forgiveness, as if reading his thoughts. "I'm not sure it would have made a difference, the next ten years – there was no place in my life for children. I'd see moms at the grocery or whatever, I wasn't glad not to be them, but I wasn't sad not to be them, either. It just… wasn't me. I wasn't made to be anyone's mom, it wasn't who I was. I was a single, on-the-go career girl with no room in my life for that. Until Henry showed up," her smile brightened at the memory. "I didn't want to be his mom, then, either, but spending time with him in Storybrooke, it just sort of… happened."

"You're wrong, you know. You're amazing with him."

"You didn't see me when I first got to town," she said with a bittersweet smile. "I think having the year in New York helped, just me and him, like I'd done everything from the beginning. But at home… it's harder, a lot more complicated. Trying to balance everything with Regina, with you – I'm still trying to figure it all out."

"I guess it would be easier to do it from the start," he mused, "instead of jumping in halfway through. But either way, you're a great mom to him, Emma." They sat in silence for a moment, lost in their thoughts, until he continued with more pressing matters. "Hey, there's our exit. Do you have the directions to the house?"

* * *

"It's cute," he said as they pulled up.

"It's small," she said in reply. "There weren't many rentals to choose from when I booked... apparently most people schedule their summer vacations more than a couple of weeks out," she said with a wry laugh. "The listing said it sleeps three," she finished, uncertainty evident in her voice.

"It's fine, Em, how much space do we need?" he replied, gesturing to the car around them.

"True," she conceded. "Key's in a lockbox on the door. I'll go get it if you want to get Henry's stuff?"

"We're here?" came a groggy voice from the backseat.

"Yeah, kid. What do you think?"

"Looks cozy," he replied. "That's a word that adults use to be nice when they really mean small, right?"

"C'mon," his dad said with a laugh, "Let's get you inside, buddy."

The trio entered, easily finding their way to the bedrooms and bathroom at the end of the hall. The small room on the right had a twin bed tucked into the corner, just enough space at the foot to tuck a suitcase, and a small dresser under the window. Across the hall was the second bedroom, a bit larger than the first, but dwarfed by the king-sized bed in the center. The rooms were clearly intended as sleeping spaces only, but the comfortable-looking living room that they had passed through on their way to the back of the house made up for the leisure space the bedrooms lacked. After all, Neal was right - how much space did the three of them need?

Henry crawled into the small bed without so much as changing into pajamas, and he was fast asleep before his parents had finished unloading the car. Emma walked into the master and dropped her bag at the foot of the bed, then turned to look at Neal as he followed her into the room. "Sleeps three," she started. "Didn't even think about the fact that it might not mean three _beds_."

"It's cool," Neal replied. "The couch looks really comfortable."

"Are you sure?" Emma said hesitantly. "We can move Henry in here and he could share with one of us, or..."

"Nah, it's fine. Kid deserves some space of his own. I've slept far worse places than a couch."

"If you're sure..." Emma said apologetically. "You can leave your bag in here, no need to clutter up the living room."

He nodded. "Sounds good."

She tossed her bag on the corner of the bed and began to dig out nightclothes. Neal mirrored this action, coming up with a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, then stepping back out the door. By the time he'd returned from changing in the bathroom, Emma had located an extra blanket in the closet and handed it over to him.

"Night, Emma," he said as he headed for the living room.

"Night," came the reply.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N -

As always, continued thanks to those who read, review, follow and favorite! I'm continually pleased and surprised to see the story getting such a good reception, so thank you for all of your feedback! And continuing thanks to Textbookone for putting up with my incessant need for beta'ing!

A little break from the angst here - it is vacation, after all! - so I hope you guys enjoy! :)

**CHAPTER 13**

Emma walked out into the living room in the morning, flopping down on the couch where Neal was already seated. "Henry up yet?"

"Haven't seen him. Must still be sleeping."

"Good," she said with a yawn. "Buys me some time before I have to start breakfast." She glanced at the clock, the time making her wonder the last time they'd all slept that late, what with her schedule at the station and – "Crap," she said out loud, "I was supposed to give Mary Margaret a ring when we got in yesterday. I'm surprised she hasn't called freaking out yet."

"Protective a bit?"

"Apparently this is what it's like to be parented," she said, rolling her eyes as she dialed the number on her phone.

"Hey," she addressed her mother, "We got here safe late last night. Sorry I forgot to call. All right… yes, I'll let you know when we head back. Okay. All right. We will, thanks. Mmhm… hey, why don't you go tend to the baby, I can hear him crying. Okay, 'bye," she finished, before rolling her eyes and throwing the phone down. "Boy, that kid has a set of lungs on him..."

Neal laughed. "Being the big sister is everything you'd ever hoped for, huh?"

"Yeah. I get to hang up the phone." She was silent for a moment before continuing. "I don't know that I think of myself as his big sister, though - he's more like my friends' kid. The giant age gap probably has something to do with that. I'm happy for them though - after what that stupid witch put them through with him, they deserve to just be able to raise their kid," she said, the words confident but the tone indicating there was something unspoken in her statement.

"But?" he asked, looking for the catch.

She sighed, silently cursing his perceptiveness. "But still, if I stop and think of him as my brother, it kinda stings a little, you know?"

"Your parents having another one?"

"Yeah… since apparently I wasn't what they wanted. So they got a replacement model. And named him after my dead... whatever you are," she finished, with a wave of her hand.

He stifled a laugh at the last part before responding in seriousness. "That sucks, Em."

"I mean, I get it, wanting to experience all of those things you missed. I've got my own version of that sleeping right behind that door," she said with a gesture down the hall. "But that doesn't mean I'm rushing out to replace him, you know?"

"Yeah, I hear ya."

"I just… I don't know how to rectify that. It's weird enough having a brother who's like thirty years younger than me – from my same-aged parents nonetheless. But I have no idea how to bond with him when he'll get literally everything I craved my whole life. And it's not like it was, 'Hey oops, we're having another one,' or 'I'd always wanted like fifteen kids,' no, it was, 'Hey, Emma didn't go according to plan, let's try again.' If I was enough, would they have had him? The happy little family they missed out on with me… now they've got it. And in one way, I don't even really begrudge them that, but then on the other hand – where does that leave me?" She shook her head, frowning. "Sorry. I didn't mean to unload all of that on you."

"Are you kidding me? Emma, I keep telling you that you need to _talk_ about this stuff. You bottle everything up and it eats away at you… it doesn't have to be like that. I want to hear about it."

She sighed. "I guess. I just… ugh. He's a _baby_. It's not his fault his life doesn't suck. It's not even like I'd want it to suck either - I'd do everything in my power to prevent that. But I'm having to try my hardest not to resent him, and I'm not sure I'm succeeding."

"It's hard to blame you, honestly. I couldn't hear everything that was said across that cave, but your mom's sentiment came through loud and clear. I get what she was going for, but it seemed pretty crappy to me."

"Yeah, that wasn't my best day ever."

"I'd imagine not."

"I know she had to reveal her secret so that we could get to you, but never so much as a 'sorry Emma?' They claim to have wanted me so badly, but it turns out I wasn't really what they wanted, and apparently it wasn't too hard to just go for the do-over. I just… I could never do that to Henry. He's not some easily replaceable commodity. Why is it that I am?"

"I dunno, Em. Did you ever talk to her about all of this?

"Of course not. How do you even start that conversation?"

"I dunno. You just do, I guess."

"I just… I don't think they get it. Yeah, we all missed 28 years together, but their lives were really just kind of on pause. That time was my whole life, so yeah, they missed me growing up but I missed _everything_. I know why they sent me through, and that they feel like the end justifies the means, but they never seem to consider the fact that maybe it just... doesn't. You're right. It sucks."

Neal opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off as he heard Henry's door open. "Hey kid!" Emma said brightly to him, thoroughly hiding her emotion of just a few moments prior. Neal fought back a scowl at the interruption, knowing that getting her to open up on the subject again would not happen easily. A glance at Henry elicited a genuine smile, though, as he willed himself to change gears and focus on the present moment.

"Morning," Henry greeted them. "What's for breakfast?"

"_That_ is an excellent question, and the answer is that we have absolutely nothing in the house. How about you throw some clothes on and we'll grab you something on the way to the grocery store?" Henry nodded, accepting the plan before he wandered back to his room to get dressed. Turning to Neal, Emma addressed him. "You gonna join us?"

"Yeah," he said, rising to put some clothes on as well. "Listen, about your parents-"

She shook her head. "You can't fix this one for me. I mean, even if I talked to my mom about it… it's not like this was some misunderstanding, her intent came through loud and clear. It's just something I've gotta work through, figure out how I fit into that family now. All I can do for right now is love _my _kid and make sure he knows exactly where he stands with me, that no matter where life takes us he'll always be good enough."

"Okay," he said with a resigned nod. "Just think about talking to them, okay? Just consider it?"

She nodded in reply, but the reluctance on her face left him with little hope that she would be willing to follow through.

* * *

The day was as mundane as it was relaxing, comprised of errands, a spaghetti dinner and a round of video games. That evening, after they'd tucked Henry in, Emma spotted Neal sitting on the back patio and joined him, two beers in hand.

"Thanks," he said, as she handed one over and he leaned back in the comfortable lawn chair furnished by the rental. She smiled in response as she sank into a second chair, separated from his by a small end table, and propped her feet on the wooden bench he'd drug over for use as a footstool. "Not near a beach," he said as he nodded towards the green-brown scrub that covered the backyard.

She laughed. "No, I figured that out a while ago. Not so hot in geography, eh mister?"

"Yeah, they don't uh… teach American geography in the Enchanted Forest."

"Can't understand why not! What kind of school system did you have over there, anyways? I'll have to speak to the king and queen about that…"

"Mostly," he said wryly, "how not to die in the Ogre wars."

"Very funny," she said, some of the mirth fading from her eyes. "Car thieving 101?"

"No," he said, "That was a skill of the school of hard knocks, here in the land without magic. You?"

"Foster sister showed me. If you think I was trouble…"

"Oh, I KNOW you were trouble," he laughed back, with a gleam in his eye.

"Shut up, Cassidy. Takes two to tango." A beat and then, "Where'd you get that car from, anyways? You never did tell me."

"Salvage yard," came the reply. "A few days… maybe a week before you showed up? There was a storm and the power went out, so I knew the alarm system'd be out… I took advantage and jimmied the lock and then took the first one I could get to start. Not sure why it was even in there, keys were in the console, it ran fine." A few moments and then, "I'd like to say I feel guilty but…" He trailed off as he sent a wink her direction.

She couldn't help but hold back a laugh. "Really, something with a full-size back seat would have been a better choice for living out of."

"Hey, I didn't expect to have to share it! I was perfectly comfortable, napping back there… 'til some girl with a ponytail came along and disrupted the whole arrangement."

"I didn't hear you complaining."

"No, _I _didn't complain," he said, shooting a mischievous look her direction.

"Hey!"

He shrugged. "Anyways, beggars can't be choosers. We made it work just fine, if I recall correctly."

"Yeah. Yeah, you do," she replied, her voice thicker than she would have liked. There was a significant pause as she shook off the dangerous territory they were headed into. Returning to the safe ground of their plans for the next day, she brightened her voice as she continued. "So Henry asked if we could go to the beach tomorrow. The only one he's ever been to is that poor excuse for one they have in Storybrooke, and that won't do at all. You game?"

"Sure," Neal replied, adjusting to the sudden change in subject. "We'll leave on the early side?"

"Probably."

"I should get to bed before too long here then. I'm still recovering from that drive down. Makes you wonder how we used to do it, in the car all day every day."

She shrugged. "We did what we had to. It wasn't so bad. We were a lot younger then."

"Some of us, anyways," he said with a laugh, as he stood to head inside.

"I'll be inside in a minute," she told him, waving him on as she sipped at the last of her drink.

By the time she made it to the bedroom, he'd changed into his nightclothes and was zipping his suitcase shut. As they said their goodnights and he made his way to the door, she called his name, causing him to stop and turn back to face her.

"Listen, it's silly for you to sleep on the couch. This bed is huge... it's bigger than the whole car combined... might as well use it. Just sleep over there, I'll stay on my side here and it'll be fine."

"Em, you really don't need to. I don't want to make things awkward."

"No, it's stupid. You shouldn't be uncomfortable for a week because I couldn't be bothered to read the whole rental listing."

He hesitated for a moment, opening his mouth to object again, but she persisted. "Seriously. I feel guilty that you're stuck out there. There'll be enough space to put a whole other person between us. I'll be okay."

Hesitantly, he conceded. "All right. It would be nice to stretch out a bit. But if you decide it's too much, just-"

"I'll let you know," she replied.

* * *

Sleep came surprisingly easily to both - maybe a bit too easily, if Emma had bothered to stop and think about it. They were awoken the next morning not by the rays of sunshine they'd anticipated streaming through the windows, but instead by a solid clap of thunder that shook the whole house.

"Damnit," Emma said, lamenting the day's ruined plans.

"Yeah, guess the beach is out, huh," Neal replied. "I hope Henry's not going to be too disappointed."

A second clap of thunder sounded, followed by a flash of lightning and the deafening silence that happens only when the power goes out. This caused Neal to pop up out of the bed, narrowly missing the end table in the process, in search of a flashlight. He headed for the hall closet, nearly colliding with Henry in the hallway.

"Hey Dad, you got a flashlight?"

"I was just looking for one. Got any ideas?"

"Hall closet?"

"We can check. Your mom's looking in the bedroom."

"Found one!" they heard her holler right on cue, and they followed the noise to the bedroom.

"In the drawer of the end table," she said, barely visible in the narrow beam of light. "Smart place for it, I suppose." Spying her son, she greeted him. "Hey Henry! You want to try to go back to sleep, or you ready for breakfast?"

"I think I'm up now," he replied.

"All right then. Luckily the stove's gas, so we should be good. What do you think about bacon, eggs and pancakes?"

"Sounds great."

* * *

Henry sat pouting in front of the window, elbows propped on the sill as he watched the rain fall. "Dad says the storm's gonna last all day."

"Yeah, well he's probably right," she said, walking into the living room to check on him. "At least the power's back on now. You should scoot back from the window, though. That's one heck of a storm out there, the last thing we need is a tree branch flying in and hitting you to ruin vacation."

He sulked away, plopping dramatically on the couch. "So I guess this means no beach, huh."

"Not unless you want to drive to the beach in order to sit in the car and look at the ocean." He grunted in disapproval, crossing his arms over his chest. "We could go tomorrow though, if you wanted?"

"I guess," Henry replied, somewhat appeased by the compromise.

"What if we get into that closet of board games we found?" Neal asked, emerging from the bathroom where he'd been showering. "We can pick one out while your mom finishes breakfast?"

"All right," Henry conceded, following his father to the small closet in the hallway.

"Let's see what we have here," Neal said as he opened the door.

"Clue!" Henry cried, his mood improving. "I love that game!"

"Monopoly… nah. Too long. Scattergories?"

"Sure."

"They got Trivial Pursuit in there?" came a query from the kitchen.

"Um… yep!" Henry yelled, standing on tip-toe to peer at the top shelf.

"Don't you think adults might have an advantage in that?" Neal hollered back.

"I think people who grew up in this realm might have an advantage in that."

"Hey!" he said, scowling at her as he walked back into the dining area, a stack of games in his arms and Henry on his tail.

She shrugged. "Just sayin'. Sit those off to the side, breakfast is ready."

"Can we play Clue first?" Henry asked, sliding into his spot at the back between the table and the wall.

"Sure. Can I be Colonel Mustard?"

* * *

"So Henry," Neal asked that afternoon, halfway through a serious game of Jenga, "While your mother takes her hour to decide which block to move, I thought we'd turn the tables a little bit. You keep getting stories out of us, I'd like one from you."

"Like what?" he asked, tilting his head to the side as he studied his father's face, trying to discern what he was looking for.

"I don't know," his father replied. "A favorite memory, a time something really cool happened…"

"Life in Storybrooke was really boring before Emma came."

"Yeah?"

"I mean, everything was pretty much the same all the time. I was the only one who grew up, moved grades in school, stuff like that. So it was pretty lonely, nobody really to hang out with or anything. Then when Grandma gave me the storybook I got it - everything made sense."

"You figured out that everyone was from the Enchanted Forest, right?"

"Yeah, you know, that everyone was cursed. Only Mom tried to convince me I was crazy, and I tried to tell Archie - he kinda played along but I knew he wasn't really convinced. So I went on this website and found Emma-"

"Those records weren't sealed?"

"They were supposed to be. Apparently 'closed adoption' is a flexible term so long as the price is right," Emma interjected, having finally eased a wood block out of its place.

"How'd you pay for that, Henry?"

"Um. Grandma helped?"

"What he means is," she said as she placed the block on the top of the tower, "He lifted his teacher's credit card, right out of her wallet. Luckily for him," she sent the boy a pointed look, "his teacher has a kind heart, and was understanding about the whole situation."

"It was for her own good! So I could get her daughter back to her!" he cried, eagerly defending himself.

"Wait, he stole your mom's credit card?" Neal ignored Henry's plea as he aimed the question at Emma. "Kid's a real klepto, isn't he?"

"Takes one to know one, Cassidy."

"Man, Henry - you really can't just go around stealing stuff. I keep hearing about this, and I know think you've got good reasons when you do it, but it's really gotta stop."

"I know, I know," he replied, rolling his eyes.

"Seriously. It's not a joke, okay?"

"Mom's lectured me on it too. Both of them, actually. It was like two years ago, I won't do it again."

"All right," he replied, warning tone still evident in his voice as he questioned how seriously his son took his admonition. They'd hung out plenty and he felt like they were forging a good relationship, but discipline was a whole new ballgame. He'd have to ask Emma about it later. Or maybe even Regina.

"So do you want to hear the rest of the story or not?" Henry asked, gingerly moving a block to the top of the pile.

"Of course I do, bud. What happened after you found your mom's information?"

"I took a bus to Boston to get her."

"You… what?"

"Hey, it's your turn, Dad."

"Don't avoid the question, Henry."

"I mean, first of all, nobody could leave the town, and even if they could it's not like they would have taken me to Emma. And we needed her to break the curse! So I took a bus to Boston and then a cab to Emma's."

He sighed. "I'm not going to yell at you for something that happened two years ago, but seriously kid? You can't do that." He shook his head. "What happened when you showed up at Emma's?"

Emma jumped in before Henry could reply. "He introduced himself, that's what. Told me his name and barged right into my apartment."

Henry, not to be outdone in telling his own story, continued from there. "Yeah, then she went and hid in the bathroom."

"Kid, you kind of gave me a shock," Emma said. "Babies you give up aren't supposed to appear on your doorstep ten years later. I needed to compose myself. Are you gonna move a block, Neal?"

"I'm thinking!" Neal protested, distracted from the game by his son's story.

Henry continued on. "So she came back out and tried to call the cops on me, get me sent home. But I talked her into taking me back to Storybrooke instead."

"And she stayed?"

"Yeah. I wasn't sure she was going to-"

"I wasn't."

"-but she stayed."

"I had to make sure he was okay," she explained.

He nodded, processing the story as he concentrated on the block tower in front of him.

"Don't touch that one, Dad, you'll make it fall."

"Nah, it's-" he tugged on the corner of the wooden rectangle, trying to assess its suitability, as Henry's prediction came true and the tower toppled in the center of the table. "-fine?" he said, completing the sentence, causing Henry to erupt in laughter and Emma to lift an eyebrow.

"If that's what fine looks like to you, remind me never to hire you as an architect."

"I was out of options!"

"A _twelve_ year old told you it was a bad plan."

"Thirteen next week..." Henry offered.

"That's not really better bud. Your mom's right. It's kinda embarrassing."

* * *

"Night kid. Sweet dreams." Neal heard the benediction float down the hall from his spot in front of the refrigerator, looking up as Emma entered the kitchen.

"Hey Em."

"Hmm?"

"What's this pie for?"

"Generally I find that desserts are for eating... this one's no different."

"It's pumpkin."

"Yeah." A beat. "That still your favorite?"

"Uh huh," he replied. "Finally got you trained, huh?" The corner of his mouth turned up in a small smile, a glint appearing in his eye as he teased her about a debate from days long passed.

She shrugged. "I just saw it at the store and thought... I dunno. Maybe I could actually remember correctly this time."

By now, he had hauled the pie to the counter and was in the process of digging out plates to serve it on. He chuckled at her comment. "Yeah, you did have a knack for grabbing any type of fruit but what I asked for. Want a slice?"

"Nah, I'm good, thanks," she said offhandedly before continuing the conversation in progress. "I just thought, you asked for pie, you'd probably want something fruit, not ground up squash or whatever. That's just unnatural, eating vegetable as dessert."

"Okay, first of all," he gestured at the air with his spatula, "it IS a fruit. Second of all, I think it's gross to eat chunky things as dessert." He shrugged. "And apple and cherry and all of the other things you'd keep grabbing me - I mean, what the hell is rhubarb anyways? - are always super chunky."

"You're so weird," she told him, watching as he licked off the knife and put it in the sink before sliding the pie back into the fridge. "If you want a pie made from fruit, it's going to have pieces of - you know - _fruit _in it."

"Too chunky," he repeated with a shake of his head. "This is much better."

"Here, let me get that for you," she said as she watched him head for the door. She opened it and allowed him to walk out, following behind.

"On the up side," she said as they seated themselves, "I suppose you'll never have to worry about getting an apple pie from my side of the family, at least." He looked at her quizzically, not quite making the connection. "You know, the whole evil queen, poisoned apple thing?"

He laughed, settling into his chair while balancing his plate on his lap. "So that part of the tale was really true, huh?"

"Uh, yeah. And after what happened with Henry, it's gonna be a long, long time before apple products make it into rotation again."

"Wait, what happened with Henry?"

"How do you not know this story?"

"I don't know... I wasn't there and no one ever told me?"

She sighed. "Short version, Regina wanted to get rid of me so that I couldn't break the curse. So she baked me an apple turnover from the same apple that put my mother into a sleeping curse. Only, Henry was so desperate to show me that the whole crazy curse thing was real that he grabbed it and ate it before I could get to it."

"Regina put her own kid under a sleeping curse?"

"Well accidentally, but yeah."

"And she's still allowed around Henry because… why?"

"Neal, a lot's happened since then. She's tried really hard to be a better mother to Henry. I truly do think she sees the error of her ways."

He frowned. "I don't like it."

"Well, I don't love it either, but she's still Henry's mom. Way more damage is done to him by keeping him away from her."

"More damage than a sleeping curse?" He made a face as she sighed. "Well, I still don't like it." Thinking for a moment, he came to a realization. "Wait a sec. Sleeping curse... your dad woke your mom up by kissing her, right? That part of the story's legit?" She nodded. "So how did Henry get woken up? He was, what, ten, eleven? He doesn't have a true love!"

"He was ten. And apparently true love's kiss works between parents and children, too."

"You?"

"Me."

He whistled. "Damn Em, you have a knack for that. First Henry, then me..."

She chuckled. "Yeah, well I'd prefer we don't make a habit of it. I find it kind of stressful, people trying to die on me." She shook her head. "That's what broke the curse though, I mean, THE curse as well as his sleeping curse - as soon as my lips touched his forehead, everyone suddenly remembered their old lives."

"Huh. I would have thought my papa would have planned something a little less... chancey. I mean, it's not like he knew you'd have a kid, he wasn't exactly part of the plan."

"Yeah, he seemed pretty shocked in your apartment when he found out how everything had come together."

"I think everybody in that apartment was shocked when they found out how everything had come together."

She laughed - and he marveled that she'd found the ability to _laugh_ about that day. "Fair enough, but the fact that the mastermind of the plan was surprised by how it played out... that's pretty special."

"You gotta admit, the fact that the designated curse-breaker managed to find the reason for the whole mess is pretty special itself."

"Can we maybe _not_ talk about the fact that I _exist_ because your dad wanted to find you? It's kinda weird."

"Weirder than the age gap?"

"Meh. We got like six years, tops."

It was his turn to laugh then.

* * *

_Mulch crunched underfoot as Neal found himself on an unfamiliar playground, nondescript and empty aside from his family. Emma sat on a swing in front of him, arms slung loosely around the chains to her sides, the tips of her toes never leaving the ground as she swayed front-to-back, ever so slightly. They were discussing the mundane details of an upcoming dinner at her parents' house, debating what time to arrive as they pondered which family member would incite the drama this time. Henry, meanwhile, was making a valiant attempt at clearing the top bar of the set as he sat in the swing to her right, oblivious to the conversation below. But the curious addition to the group was the towheaded toddler in front of Neal, lounging in a bucket-shaped swing as her chubby hands gripped the chains tightly and giggling every time he gave it another shove._

_After a few minutes, he noticed the baby was yawning and grabbed the front of the swing to gently stop its motion. He lifted her out, snuggling her momentarily on his shoulder before he handed her over to Emma, who was waiting with outstretched arms. The little girl stuck her thumb in her mouth, curling her fingers around her nose as she nestled onto her mother's chest. Absentmindedly, Emma began to rock the swing with her feet as she laid her cheek on top of the little girl's head, never missing a beat of the conversation. The baby's eyes slowly fluttered shut as her breathing slowed, sleep coming easily in her mother's embrace._

"_We should probably get her home," Emma said after a few minutes._

"_Yeah," he replied, turning his attention to the teen to his left. "Hey Henry?" he called. "Time to go bud. And don't jump this time, okay? You nearly gave your mother a heart attack when you did that."_

"_It's true," she said, as their son drug his toes in the dirt to stop his swing._

"_But I didn't break anything!" Henry protested with a triumphant smile._

"_That time," his father joked, stepping forward and reaching his arms out for the sleeping toddler. "Here, let me have her so you can get up."_

_She passed easily between her parents, little more than stirring, and comfortably nuzzled into the crook of his neck, her warm breath a calming comfort. Neal extended his free hand to help Emma off of the swing, then lazily slung his arm around her shoulders as they followed Henry towards the car._

He awoke with a faint smile playing on his lips, relieved to see Emma snoring softly on the other side of the bed - and unaware of his subconscious musings - before giving himself leave to ponder the dream. She'd been running hot and cold since they'd left Storybrooke, repeatedly on the brink of falling into a comfortable family routine before she found some other reason to push it away. This left him wondering if she'd ever be willing to let go of the past long enough to get a solid hold on the present. Was there a possibility of a future like that, or was his subconscious merely cooking up an unattainable pipe dream? If Henry, as the tie that bound them, was all they ended up sharing of a life together, that could be enough – certainly it was more than he deserved, after everything. But he found himself realizing that as conscious as Emma seemed to be of the precarious situation they'd put themselves in with this trip, he had chosen the opposite - to remain blithely unaware, as if spending time like this was no big deal - and that was coming back around to bite him in the end. After all that he'd put her through, he'd been grateful for whatever space she'd allowed him to have in her life, but the idyllic family picture this week was presenting must have been doing more of a number on him that he'd anticipated. He was realizing now that he wanted his family back even more than he'd been willing to admit to himself, and he just hoped that at the end of the day - once she'd overcome her fears - Emma wanted the same.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N - Thanks for the continued reading and reviews*! I can't believe that this story is continuing to add favorites and followers - I am so glad that everyone is enjoying it. Next update should be Sunday, so look for it then! :)**

(*Mary, I couldn't find a way to PM you, but the answer to your question is no - Emma's very specific in instructing Neal to sleep waaaay on the opposite side of the bed. We're not quite there yet!)

**CHAPTER 14**

"Hey, you ready Mom?" Emma heard Henry holler from the living room.

"Just about," she replied. "Did you guys get a cooler packed?"

"Yeah!"

"All right," she said, emerging from the bathroom. "Did you put sunscreen on?"

"Yeah," he replied again.

"The sun is a lot stronger here in Florida than it is in Maine, I don't want you to burn."

"I know, Mom," he replied, annoyance clear in his voice. "You've already told me like five times."

"Got the car all loaded—" Having finished his task, Neal entered the house. He stopped short as he saw Emma, wearing a tank top and shorts over her bathing suit with her hair pulled into a ponytail. "You put it up," he stated simply, surprised.

"I thought maybe I should stop making a big deal out of every stupid little thing," she said with a shrug, trying to downplay her decision.

"It looks good on you," he replied.

"The ponytail, or not being so uptight?"

"Both?" he replied with a laugh. "Whichever one won't get me in trouble."

She gave him a smack on the arm as she walked out the door. "C'mon kid, let's go get in the car. Maybe by the time we get there your dad will have figured out the right answer."

An hour later, they arrived at the beach. Henry hopped out of the car and ran straight for the water, leaving his parents to unload the various beach supplies they'd brought along.

They spread the oversized beach towel across the sand and Emma sat down, situating herself such that she could keep an eye on Henry in the water.

"I'm gonna go join him," Neal informed her. "Want to come with?"

She shook her head. "I'm good, thanks."

He shrugged and headed down the beach while she stretched out on her stomach, enjoying the warmth of the sun. She watched the boys play for a while as they tussled and shoved each other about in the surf, Neal tossing Henry in as frequently as he could lift him.

She wasn't aware she had closed her eyes until she woke up to Neal squatting next to her, calling her name. "Emma... Emma!"

"Hmm?" she asked sleepily, eyes still closed.

"Sorry to wake you... I heard you lecture Henry about sunscreen, but I didn't see you put any on. Wanted to remind you before you burned."

"I put it everywhere I could reach," she mumbled.

"Does that include the back you currently have completely exposed to the sun?"

She popped one eye open and frowned at him. "No."

"Ooookay. Well, you're gonna burn if you don't put some on."

Her scowl deepened. "I don't wanna. That requires moving from my spot."

"Nah," he replied, "I can get it for you."

"Thanks," she replied, realizing a bit too late exactly what she'd agreed to. The ensuing proximity, though it didn't seem to faze him in the slightest, was a bit more than she was prepared for. Over the last few weeks, he'd been very careful to give her space at all times, a stark contrast to their consistent closeness throughout their time together. Having him so near now was an unexpected reminder of how much she'd missed that, and it was a feeling she wasn't in a place to process at that exact moment… Particularly with the product of what tended to result from such closeness digging in the sand a mere five feet away.

Neal finished the task at hand and she thanked him absently, unwilling to meet his gaze lest she be left with another flood of feelings she was unable to smash down. As he joined Henry in the sand, she took a deep breath to steady herself, willing herself to once again bury the emotional draw she felt.

Finally she felt steady enough to turn her sight line to the duo playing in the sand before her, propping herself up on her elbows so that she could watch them. "Whatcha doin'?" she asked Henry, who was currently instructing his father on exactly how the sand mound should be shaped.

"Building our castle!" he replied, leaving off the "of course" that was implied by the tone of his voice.

"Oh, kid," she replied, shaking her head. Neal shot her a look, imploring her not to ruin their fun. She smiled lightly, assuring him she'd play along. "You gotta build it of sturdier stuff than that. Sand will just erode as soon as the rainy season starts."

"Mom," he replied, rolling his eyes, "I know that. Besides, it's just a prototype."

"Ah, okay," she said, rising and joining them at the building site. "So tell me about your plans for this castle, then."

"So this is the ballroom, here, and the dining hall. Then the bedrooms go down this end. Dad said I should put you up in a turret since you're the princess and all but that's just silly. So you guys can go in this room here -" he gestured at a stick-drawn square - "and I'll go here next door. And then we'll have a few extras in case we need them, you know, in case Grandma and Gramps want to come visit or whatever."

"Very creative," she complimented him, while Neal watched the entire scene with amusement. Once Henry finished his narration, the two boys resumed discussing the best structural approach to take to ensure the towers stayed upright in windy conditions. Henry patted the various portions of the castle into place while his dad shaped them and artfully scratched in details with the stick that they'd found. Emma watched them with interest, offering occasional suggestions and admiring their easy interplay as they debated various dilemmas that presented themselves as they worked.

For a brief moment, she allowed herself to get sucked into the idea that these easy, comfortable family moments could be an everyday reality, as if the three of them were a typical family spending a day at the beach. But she quickly chastised herself; that was the type of thinking that would lead to nothing but heartbreak when it all inevitably came crashing down on the other side. Still, it was an awfully tempting notion, the ability to restore this little family to the "should have been" of the past - even if it was with the added caveat of sharing their child with his other mother.

She let out a sigh as she shook herself out of dreamland when Henry hopped up to find some debris suitable for use as a flag on the now-completed castle. "You okay?" Neal asked, having heard the sigh.

"Yeah," she said with a smile. "Just thinking."

"Good thoughts?"

"How much I love watching how the two of you are together," she offered, figuring half the truth to be better than an outright lie.

He chuckled. "We do have a good time. You should join in."

"I'm not much of a construction guru. Though I suppose after yesterday, the same could be said about you," she replied with a smirk.

"Ha, ha, very funny," he replied, rolling his eyes. "It just so happens that you're in luck - Henry said the flag is the final touch, and I think he wants a photo, but after that we're going back into the water."

She wrinkled her nose. "Maybe I'll just watch."

"Aw, c'mon Mom!" Henry protested, having caught the end of the conversation as he returned with a leafy twig for the top of the castle.

"That thing is truly impressive, kid," she said, gesturing to the castle as she attempted to divert the conversation.

"Thanks," he replied with a grin. "And nice job changing the subject, but you don't get out of it that easily."

She groaned. "Really, you guys are having a great time without me. I'll just hang out up here and watch."

Father and son exchanged identical looks, wrinkling their noses as they their shook heads. "Nah," said Henry. "We should all go in. It'd be better."

Emma looked to protest again, but she wasn't given the opportunity before Neal scooped her up and took off running into the surf. "Oh come on!" she hollered, but her half-hearted protests fell on deaf ears. She let out a shriek as he reached the waterline, Henry close behind them.

When Neal got far enough in that he was waist-deep in water, he stopped and looked back at Henry. "Should we?" he asked, a mischievous glint in his eye, his intention to toss her in clear.

"You wouldn't," Emma dared, arms clasped tightly around his neck as she tried to keep herself above the incoming waves.

"No?" he asked, watching her carefully to ascertain exactly how angry she would be at him if he did, indeed, toss her in.

"Do it Dad!" Henry hollered, causing both parents to look at him as he grinned from ear-to-ear. They were hard pressed to take the situation too seriously when faced with that grin, and Neal again made like he was ready to toss her at any moment.

She learned closer onto his shoulder, speaking softly enough that Henry couldn't hear. "If it wasn't for the kid you'd be dead meat, you know that, right?"

"Yup."

"All right, might as well get it over with," she said, holding her breath as she braced for the rush of cold water.

"Mm… yeah, I don't know about that," he said. "I might have the better end of the deal here already."

"Neal," she began with a warning tone.

"Kidding," he said, breaking into a grin as he tossed her ungracefully into the gulf.

Moments later, she surfaced, sputtering, and lunged at him, knocking him into the water with her. "I'm gonna _kill _you!"

"Well now that would be counterproductive," he quipped. "I seem to remember you going to great lengths to make sure I was _not _dead."

"Clearly I had no idea that would result in being dunked in the ocean!" she exclaimed. Turning her sights on Henry, she continued her mock rage. "And you! Did you put this idea in his head or merely encourage it?"

"Whichever one will get me in less trouble?" he replied with a cheeky grin, parroting his father from that morning.

"You two are gonna be the death of me!" she hollered with a laugh, wrapping her arms around her son and hauling him down into the water with her. "You're ridiculous, both of you, and you're both in trouble!" Something about the glint in her eye betrayed her threatening words, and Henry bounced up from his dunking only to hop on her back and haul her under the water yet again.

The three of them continued on like this for a while, the father-son team eventually giving way to both adults conspiring to repeatedly douse the teen. After some time, the family tired of the horseplay and plodded up the beach to their blanket. Henry unpacked the cooler, passing out the sandwiches they'd packed that morning, and the trio sat drying in the sun.

After inhaling his sandwich at a nearly inhuman rate of speed, Henry raised a question to his parents. "Hey, that thing about the eating and waiting to swim… is that a real thing?"

"I think it's an old wives' tale, kid."

"Then can I go back in?"

His parents looked at each other. "No objection here," his father said, so Emma granted him permission.

"Go on. Just don't go too deep since nobody's out there with you."

The two munched quietly at the remainder of their meals, eating at a much more reasonable pace while keeping careful eyes on Henry in the water. As they ate, a young family arrived a bit down the beach - a set of parents and two small children, laden with beach paraphernalia. Emma paid them little mind, busy watching Henry trying to jump waves - missing more often than he cleared them - until she noticed Neal's gaze intermittently drifting that direction. Watching him as he observed the family brought to mind their conversation of the other night, and she was left wondering how much wistfulness was in his gaze, seeing their comfortable interactions as they talked and chased the kids in the shallow waves, swinging the smaller of the two hand-in-hand between them. Unwittingly she realized she was watching them in the same manner, almost as a snapshot of the life that could have been - or perhaps even yet could be, in a way. Or even, she realized with a bit of surprise, exactly as the three of them had undoubtedly seemed that very day to anyone who might have observed their interactions.

"Hey Mom," a voice appeared to the right, pulling her out of her reverie, "Did you ever get a picture of my castle? Tide's getting awfully close to it."

"No... I got distracted when _somebody _kidnapped me and dragged me into the ocean. Here, you can use my phone to snap one. Or actually, better yet - I'll get a picture with you in it."

"Dad too," Henry requested, "since he helped build it."

"Yeah, okay," she agreed, as the two of them both got into position. "After that, we probably should go. Sky's getting a little dark, and we just finally got dry." The boys nodded, readying themselves for the photo prompt. "Ready?"

"Ma'am?" a passerby asked. "Do you want to get in the picture too? I could take it for you."

"We're okay, thank you," she said, gently rejecting the offer.

"C'mon Mom!" Henry hollered. "There's a spot for you here."

"Henry, I don't really need-"

"Oh, honey, you should go," the kind woman pressed on. "Mom never gets to be in the family photos. You'll be glad to have it someday."

"Oh it's not-" she began to object again, then caught sight of her son, pleading eyes, sun-kissed hair and earnest grin. Kid probably did deserve a photo of the three of them together. "All right, thank you," she replied, finally consenting to join the duo at the castle.

"Say cheese," the woman instructed.

"Cheese!"

* * *

"So are you finding Tallahassee better the second time around?" The question came as they settled on the patio, something that had apparently become an expected event each evening.

"Couldn't get much worse than the first time," she said with a shrug. "I don't know what the appeal was about Florida... the beach is great, but apart from that it's hot and muggy and there's too damn many bugs... I think Maine is more my speed."

"Apparently practicality was not such a consideration with 'close your eyes and pick a spot'."

"Not much was a consideration back then. Sorry for that crack about Neverland, by the way. I didn't know..."

"That it was my own personal hell? Who in their right mind would have thought that?"

"Yeah, I know." She shook her head apologetically. "But still."

"It's fine. I would've gone back there if you'd asked me to."

"Um, you DID go back there."

He shrugged. "I had to get you and Henry out of there. I couldn't let my son go through what I had on that island."

"You're an incredible dad to him, you know that?"

Another shrug. "He makes it easy. He's such a great kid."

"He's a lot like you," Emma mused. "More than anyone else, I think."

"Just so long as he doesn't inherit my issues."

"I think we're all doing our best to prevent that... keep things as stable as possible under the circumstances. He knows he's loved, that's the most important thing. I don't think he felt that way when he came to find me," she said with a slight frown.

"I hate that for him."

"I know. I did too. It's why I stayed."

"You really didn't want to?" He tilted his head to the side, curious about the portion of his family's life that he hadn't been around for.

"I really didn't. I wanted to get him safely back into his life, then go back to mine." She paused for a moment before continuing. "Of course in the long run I've been more than glad that I stayed. But at the time, he pulled up every emotion I'd buried after I gave him away... and he reminded me so much of you. I just wanted to get away from it all." Another pause, and then, "Irony is, that's probably why he got under my skin so quickly. I never really got over either of you."

* * *

She should never have offered to let him sleep in the bed.

The three feet between them was not nearly enough space. After the rapid-fire series of emotions she'd had earlier that day at the beach, she needed time and space by herself to process her feelings. Or, rather, to smash them back into the space where they'd lived for the last thirteen years – which as far as she was concerned was pretty much the same thing. Trying to forget that you care about someone you can _hear _breathing next to you is a more-or-less impossible task.

"Shit," she breathed out, whisper-soft on an exhale. She needed to be _anywhere _that was not that bedroom, but getting out of the bed would undoubtedly wake him - and the questions that would invite might actually be worse than the present situation. _Breathe, Emma,_ she thought to herself, just move yourself all the way to the edge of the bed and _breathe_.

Within two minutes she had realized that plan was entirely futile, as images of their day at the beach paraded through her mind with no regard to her will for them to stop. It had been way, way too close to something that resembled the life she would have chosen so long ago, and entertaining the possibility of that being a present-day reality was probably the most dangerous thing she could allow herself to do at the moment. But then, Neal had been nothing but patient, loving and reliable since he'd gotten back, working to earn her trust back as she'd told him he needed to and maintaining a steady presence in her & Henry's life, and -

And his presence was the problem at the moment, as he was _right there_, thirty-six inches to her right - if that - and she had to _go_. Unable to share a space with him any longer, she eased herself out of the bed, and predictably he mumbled something that might have been a question which asked if everything was okay. She managed to respond with something about the bathroom as she slipped out the door. Indeed, the bathroom was a good plan, with the door closed and light on, where nobody would bother her. As she glanced in the mirror, she realized that was a very good thing, as she looked every bit as panicked as she felt. She sat on the closed toilet trying to simply breathe until she figured enough time had passed for him to fully return to sleep before she crept through the kitchen to the sliding door that led to the patio.

Walking outside, she felt her panic subside as she inhaled the tepid evening air. Sinking into her customary spot in her patio chair she blew out a long stream of air, forcing herself to take a moment and just _stop _the whirlwind of thoughts rushing through her brain. The space did the trick as she'd expected it to, allowing her to rectify her thought patterns and tuck the day's memories into the compartments where they belonged. She sat calmly for a number of minutes and it wasn't until she thought of a funny comment Henry had made earlier that her problems arose again; instinctively she turned to say something about it to the figure in the chair to her left only to find it empty. She frowned as she realized that more troubling than the fact that it was instinctual to have him there was the fact that she was bothered that he wasn't – and she realized she missed having him there far more than she should.

As she thought back over the previous couple of nights on the patio - and the days they'd spent with Henry in between - she came to the startling realization that somewhere along the way, she'd fallen back in love with her apparent 'true love.' She'd loved him all along, that fact was well established, but that wasn't quite the same as falling back _in _love with him - yet suddenly there she was. Apparently she had learned nothing at 17, and she cursed her own idiocy in allowing the same thing to happen twice. Letting him back in… well, she'd apparently already done that, and she couldn't live through the same outcome twice.

She'd known from the outset that the trip was a bad idea for exactly this reason. Yet somehow she had gone along with it, perhaps because of that subconscious optimism that they really could make something work. But after having gotten a tiny taste of what that life could look like... she needed to put a halt to it before she allowed herself to get any more attached.

Resigning herself to spending the day away tomorrow, she crept back into the house, hoping sincerely that the couch was as comfortable to sleep on as Neal insisted it was. Sleep came surprisingly easily with her thoughts resolved. She woke the next morning to find herself covered in a blanket that she hadn't had when she finally fell asleep - at some point, Neal must have woken up and gone looking for her. That man sure was not going to make detaching easy on her.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N - Well, that last chapter went over like a lead balloon! Sorry guys - Emma, being Emma, was not going to let me get away with a slow and steady climb towards reunion without having a freak out moment. (Truth be told, it was supposed to happen in New York but she would not cooperate! I'm actually happier with how it turned out in the long run, though.) I promise it's still a SwanFire story in the end :p**

**So, this is officially the last chapter before the story "technically" goes canon divergent. Sorry it's a short one, the next one will be a bit longer for y'all and I think you'll be pleased with it ;) Look for it on Friday.**

**Thanks as always for those who read, review, favorite, follow - and to my beta reader, textbookone, who deserves extra thanks for dealing with my major whining session yesterday as I try to work out the end of this story! (She just posted a couple of short fics herself, go check them out!) You guys seriously have no idea how good it is to know that I'm not the only one still hanging onto this crazy SF notion!  
**

**CHAPTER 15**

Henry woke in the morning to find his Dad lounging in the easy chair in the living room, crossword puzzle from the newspaper on his lap. His mother was nowhere to be seen, but on the table was a box of cereal with a post-it note affixed, reading, "Gone to run errands… milk in the fridge. Back later."

"Where'd Mom go?" Henry asked, puzzled.

"Dunno," Neal replied, not oblivious to the frown his son wore. "She was out of the house before I was even up."

Henry sighed, flopping down on the couch. "It's not like her to leave like that, Dad. Something's up."

His father set his paper off to the side and sat up, giving his son his full attention. "You think?"

"I'm sure. Mom doesn't just run off without an explanation."

"Where do you think she's gone, then?"

"I dunno, Dad. Did you two have a fight or something?"

Neal bit back a laugh at his son's assumed blame. "Not at all, buddy. Everything was fine yesterday."

Henry dropped his gaze to the floor. "I don't know what her deal is, then. Do you think she freaked out and ran away again?"

Neal moved to the couch to sit next to the dejected boy. "Henry, I don't think she ran away. Maybe she just needed some space. We have all been spending a lot of time together, she might have just needed some breathing room."

"You don't think she wants to be around us all the time?"

"I think it might just be a little much, all of this togetherness all of a sudden."

His shoulders fell. "I just… I just thought we were finally going to get to be a family."

"Hey," his father said to him, gently planting a finger under his chin to lift it, "We _are _a family. Whatever goes on between me and your mom - we'll always be family."

"Yeah, but not like a real family, with a mom and a dad and just… normal." He sighed. "I don't think that's it though. Mom's had a lot of fun this week, I can't remember the last time I saw her smile so much. I just wish she didn't freak about stuff like this. She did it back when I first met her, about me, and about the curse… I thought she'd gotten past it."

"I think that's my fault, bud. We had a really, really good day together yesterday, all of us. Sometimes I think it's like when she sees how good it could be she runs away, because she's afraid if she doesn't leave, it'll leave her. It really messed her up when I left way back when and it doesn't matter how good my reasons were, or how much she understands it now. All we can do at this point is show her that we're not going anywhere. She'll get there eventually."

"I guess," he replied, still not entirely convinced. "You really think she'll come around?"

"I hope so, Henry."

"She wants to be a family, I know she does... she's just gotta stop being scared of it."

"She needs to make up her own mind, buddy. You need to give her some space to work it out on her own. Just remember she loves you, no matter what, and let your old dad worry about the rest. Okay?"

"All right," he replied, still unconvinced. "I just hope she's alright."

"Your mom can take care of herself, Henry. You, on the other hand, need some breakfast. How 'bout I make you something?"

"Okay," Henry conceded.

"How's cereal sound?"

"Dad! That's not _making_ me something!"

"Sure, you have to get out the bowl, pour the cereal, pour the milk…"

Henry rolled his eyes. "Dad! Seriously?"

* * *

"Dad?" Henry looked up from his spot on the couch, where he was laid out reading. "Do you think we should wait for mom to have lunch?"

"It's almost one, bud. If you're hungry, we can eat. Sandwiches?"

"Yeah. Do you think she's okay?"

"I'm sure she's fine, Henry. Just getting some space, like we talked about this morning."

* * *

It was four thirty when Emma finally returned, a few sacks of groceries slung over her arm. She went into the kitchen and began preparing dinner with nary a word about her absence. On the plus side, she acted as warmly as ever towards Henry, even if her disposition towards Neal was more distanced and barely cordial.

Dinner was a quiet affair, absent the joking and camaraderie that had characterized their trip thus far. Henry's questions about Emma's disappearance were met with single-word answers before she quickly changed the subject. His pleading eyes towards his father did nothing to amend the situation, and shortly after they finished he declared he was tired and wanted to head to bed early.

"You feeling okay?" Emma asked him, clearing the dishes into the sink.

"Yep. Just tired," he replied shortly.

"Go put your PJs on and get your teeth brushed," she instructed. "I'll be right behind you."

Not ten seconds had passed between when Henry walked out of the room and when she turned to find Neal next to her. Speaking softly, so not as not to risk being overheard by curious young ears, he addressed her absence throughout the day. "Hey… I don't know what you're running from, but we've gotta talk about it. You're kinda freaking me out, and Henry noticed, too."

"I'm not-" she protested out of habit.

"You are. Just go get Henry settled, we can talk later, it doesn't even have to be right away, but we've gotta talk. Okay?"

She didn't agree, but she didn't object either, and he counted that as a win.

* * *

She found him on the back porch - not surprisingly. She hesitated before she walked out, seriously considering going anywhere but out that door, but the courage that she'd developed from the last few weeks of discussions finally won out.

She walked around him to her chair and sat down in silence, waiting for the interrogation he'd promised earlier. Gone was the easy, lounging posture that he'd come accustomed to throughout the week; instead she exhibited vastly different body language - perched forward on the edge of the chair, straight-backed, feet on the ground. Her arms were folded in front of her, not in an angry manner but rather as a sort of defense strategy. This all told Neal that Henry's instincts were spot-on: she'd been running.

"Where'd you go today, Em?"

"I had some errands to run."

"Errands? You were gone six hours and came home with two bags of groceries."

She shrugged. "Couldn't find anything I liked."

"Emma." He put a hand to his forehead, rubbing it, letting out a frustrated sigh in the process. "Come on. What's really going on."

Another shrug.

"Listen, Em, if I crossed a line yesterday or something, I'm sorry, but you gotta tell me so I don't do it again. Whatever _this _is, it really can't happen… Henry was really bothered when you just disappeared today, worried about why you'd left. You didn't even stay to make him breakfast. I don't really have an issue with however you choose to deal with me, but Henry -"

"I left him with you."

"You know that doesn't matter. You _left _him. He got up and you were gone."

She sighed. "I just needed some space."

"I just never thought you'd leave Henry like that."

Her eyes met his. "I _didn't _leave him. I _just needed space_."

It was Neal's turn to sigh. "Emma, you can have all the space you need. Just make sure Henry knows what's going on. If you don't want to be around me or whatever-"

"I _do _want to be with you, that's the problem." The words escaped before she'd given herself permission to say them, and immediately she regretted letting them slip out.

"I - what?" he replied in surprise.

She did not answer him, instead moving her eyes to the ground as she slumped down in the chair.

"Emma, is that what all this is about?" Once again, silence was the response. "Listen, I know you're scared of what might happen if you let me back in - that you might get everything you've ever wanted only for something to screw it up again."

She turned to face him, surprise evident in her eyes. "How do you know that?"

"Because I know _you_. But Emma, that thing you are so scared to lose - you'll never have it in the first place if you keep running away from it. What we have here is never going to be what it would have been ten years ago, but if your vision of Tallahassee is still the same as mine, we can still have that, you know? Different than it would have been, but still us having a home together somewhere..." He let the words linger in the air, giving her a moment to process his comments.

Finally, she took a deep breath and started to speak, tentatively, cautiously. "Being here with you guys this week..." She trailed off, not sure if she was ready to admit her feelings aloud. She looked across the patio at him, inhaling again before continuing. "It's been really good," she admitted reluctantly. "I just... it feels like we're just kinda playing house, like maybe it's all pretend."

"Like it might all disappear?"

She nodded.

"It doesn't have to. It's up to you, Em. We can go back home and go back to our separate lives, just see each other to hand off Henry, hang out every once and a while. Or we can..."

"Give it a shot?"

"Yeah. Something like that. See whether there's something there worth fighting for. You know that no matter what you want to do, I'll always be here for you and Henry. And you know that I'd love nothing more than to have that life together we talked about forever ago. But I don't want you entering into a relationship or whatever because it's what I think should happen... it's gotta be your call."

She sighed again. "But what if we try it and-" She faltered.

"I leave again?"

Another nod.

"That won't happen. It will never, ever happen, not unless you ask me to go. I promised you back in New York, no more leaving. I couldn't do that to you, to Henry – I couldn't do that to myself." He took a deep breath, slowly blowing the air out as he searched for the wording before he continued. "Listen, Em, here's what I think. I'm no shrink, but it seems to me like you're freaking out a bit because you know that if we do this, really do this, it's permanent. And you don't do permanence well. I get it, running's a habit of mine too, you know that. I'm not saying we should fly off on a whim and get married or anything. Just..."

"Be together?"

"Yeah. Just be us. Get it back to where it should have been, without August, without the watches."

She hedged, starting a response and then thinking better of it.

"Listen," he said, "You've gotta choose it. I can't make you - and I wouldn't. But don't toss away what could be a really good thing because you think it might all disappear. You can't live in misery forever, because you're afraid to be happy."

"Let me think about it, okay?"

"I think that's a fair answer."

Once they got back inside, Neal grabbed his sweats and the spare blanket before heading for the bedroom door. "I'm gonna crash back out on the couch tonight. I think it'd be good for you to have some space."

"Neal, you really don't have to-"

"I do. I think it's better."

"Okay." She sent him a smile. "Thanks."

"For you? It's nothing."


	16. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER 16**

Neal woke the next morning to the gentle clanking of cookware, the sounds of someone trying to accomplish the impossible task of being quiet in the kitchen. He wandered in to find Emma looking significantly more at peace than she had the evening before, whisking pancake batter in a bowl.

"Hey," she said with a quiet smile.

"Morning," he said in reply, pulling a dining chair out. He straddled it backwards, crossing his arms atop its back and he resting his chin on them such that he sat facing her. "You sleep okay?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Fine, thanks."

"Sorry about the couch…" she said, guilt evident in her voice.

"You don't have to be sorry, Em. I offered."

"I know. But still."

He shook his head. "Not still. It was important for you to get some space."

Seeing another smile from her made any moments of discomfort he might have had worth it. "Thanks for understanding."

"Of course. Hey, I'm gonna go grab a shower before Henry gets up, okay?"

She nodded, turning to the stove as he headed down the hall. He really was a good guy, she thought to herself as she poured the batter onto the griddle. Staring absentmindedly, she watched the bubbles emerge through the batter and collapse upon themselves, almost mesmerizing in a manner. He was right, she knew, in what he had said last night. She was pushing away her chance at finally piecing her tiny family back together, that self-protective mechanism kicking in as it had in Neverland, at the portal, and so many other times before. Despite being designed to protect her, it only served to bring more pain, and she needed to figure out how to make that stop.

Flipping the pancakes, she considered the opportunity she was confronted with. A dozen years ago - more, even, it seemed the years just kept flying by - this is the life she would have chosen, without question. And what had changed, really? It was no small matter that her trust had been shattered, obviously - but the circumstances were so impossibly extenuating that she had no question that they would not be repeated. She also had no question, she realized for the first time, that in any other set of circumstances the outcome would have been different; Neal's reasons for leaving may not have been ones she agreed with even now, but she understood and had full faith that nothing outside of the madness that was the curse and all that surrounded it would have torn him away. She had his word now that he'd stick it out, whatever came to pass. And since they'd reunited in Manhattan, he had proven himself to be nothing if not a man of his word. He'd been willing to sacrifice again and again for her and for Henry, and that counted for something. It counted for a lot.

More batter went on the griddle as she watched the bubbles surface once again, considering their time spent as a family throughout the week and the realization that it truly was all within her grasp, if she wanted to choose it. And did she? The honest answer hadn't changed in nearly fourteen years, even when that truth terrified her so much she could hardly see straight. A flip of the pancakes with the spatula brought a moment of clarity: this was the life she'd always wanted and why would she choose anything else?

If they tried to make something of it and it didn't work out… She shook her head, banishing the thought, as in her heart of hearts she knew that it was far more likely to go in her favor. She couldn't be the one responsible for costing all three of them this shot at happiness, not when it was so easy to just accept it. What the future would hold for their little family, it was impossible to know - though if she was reading Neal's question of the other night correctly, he might have a few ideas.

Soft steps padding down the hall called her attention to the doorway, and there stood her son, barely awake with messy brown hair going every which way. He may have gotten her father's height and her mother's chin, but so much of the rest of him was Neal. From the messy hair and chocolate eyes to that winsome smile - which had gotten them into almost as much trouble as it had gotten them out of - he favored his father so much that it almost hurt to look at him sometimes.

"Good morning!" she greeted him, and he grunted as he sat down at the table. "Made you some pancakes."

"Thanks Mom," he replied, gratefully accepting the plate she placed in front of him. "Where's the syrup?"

"In the pantry where it's been all week. Want me to grab it for you?"

"Yes, please," he replied.

She brought the syrup to the table and sat down in the chair next to her son, watching as he poured excessive amounts of it over his pancakes. She bit back an admonishment – it was vacation, after all – before addressing him. "Hey, Henry, I think I owe you an apology."

"For yesterday?"

"Yeah, kid. For running off like that. I needed some space, and I'm not gonna apologize for that, but just disappearing on you wasn't okay. So I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Mom."

"I don't think it is. Your dad said you were really upset."

He shrugged. "I was just worried about you."

"I know. But you're not supposed to worry about me, I'm supposed to worry about you."

"Mom. It goes both ways."

She ruffled his hair before pressing a kiss to his head as she stood up. "I know. But I'm supposed to be the adult here, so I want you to know that I'm sorry that I worried you." Walking back over to finish the pancakes, she turned as she heard Neal come back into the kitchen. "Hey, pancakes are here if you want some."

"They look great, thanks," he replied, as he plated a couple and joined Henry at the table. "So, we still on for mini-golf today?"

"Yeah," Henry said with a grin. "I haven't played in a while, but I always used to beat Mom when we went and played at the pier."

"You gonna join us?" Neal asked, trying to keep the question as light as possible.

"I think I'll stay back, if you guys don't mind. We need to get stuff packed up before we go tomorrow and I could use some time to think about things."

Henry began to pout, but Neal silenced him with a look. "No problem. We'll have a fun guys morning. What do you say, buddy?"

"I guess."

"Hey! What kind of way is that to treat your old Dad."

"I just wish Mom was coming too, that's all."

"How about if you and I hang out this afternoon?" she offered.

He sighed, a melodramatic noise for such a youngster. "Okay Mom. I guess."

"Listen, the other option is we all stay home and clean the house. I figured you'd rather go have fun with your dad."

Henry considered for a moment. "No, I think you were right. Dad and I can go, you stay here. We'll be back this afternoon."

She laughed. "You guys have fun. Just comb your hair before you go, okay kid? You have some serious bedhead."

* * *

The sound of the car returning with her boys caused Emma to look up from her spot on the couch, where she'd grabbed one of Henry's books and curled up in the corner to read. _Her boys_ – had she really earned the right to think of them like that?

"Hey kid!" Emma said, smiling at her son as he walked in the front door. "Did you guys have a good time?"

"Yeah, I totally creamed Dad. I got three hole-in-ones!"

"Awesome job! Where is your dad, by the way?"

"He said he had something he needed to go do, but he'd be back in time for dinner."

Her brow furrowed, wanting to press further, but before she could Henry was down the hall. "I'm gonna hang out and read for a while, okay?" he hollered back at her.

"Sure," she replied, and the only response she received was the sound of the door clicking shut.

* * *

After dinner, Henry had returned to his room to continue reading. Emma tapped gently on his door, stepping back to preserve his privacy as it swung open a crack. "Henry?" she called softly.

"Hey Mom," he replied, and she heard the smile in his voice. "C'mon in."

She couldn't help but smile to see him face down on the bed, engrossed with the next book in the series, thumb holding his place as he looked back over his shoulder at her. The saga was undoubtedly far less science "fiction" to him than it would be for most twelve year olds, she was sure. "Pretty sure that one didn't actually happen, Henry," she laughed.

He rolled his eyes as he substituted a bookmark for his thumb and sat up. "I know. Not EVERY story really happened…"

Emma sat on the edge of the bad and motioned for Henry to scoot over to her, slinging an arm around him as she did so. "You're awesome, you know that, kid?"

"Yeah Mom, I know." He thought for a minute and then winked as he said, "Although, the story IS about traveling through time and space to save someone's Dad…"

Emma smiled at him and pressed a kiss to his head. "I owed it to someone and his dad to make it right."

"Thanks, Mom," he said, snuggling his head onto her shoulder.

She waited a few minutes, enjoying her son's affection, before quietly launching into the reason for her visit. "Henry?" He looked up at her attentively, with his father's dark eyes. "You know nothing and no one could make me love you less, right?"

His expression changed as he looked at her quizzically. "I know just because you're finally getting back with Dad doesn't mean he'll replace me, if that's what you're asking."

"No one could ever replace you, Henry. Never."

"What are you getting at, Mom?"

She sighed. "Did I ever tell you about the cave we went in on Neverland?"

"Dad's cave?"

"No, the other one… Echo Cave."

He shook his head, unsure where the story was headed.

"Pan had your Dad… he was trapped on a ledge in the middle of it. And to get to him, everyone had to tell their deepest secret. Mary Margaret… she talked to David about wanting another baby – well, your uncle, now, I guess. She talked about how she loved me, but she felt cheated out of my childhood… all of the things she'd dreamed of having as a mom. And I get that, I do – I look at you and I adore you but sometimes -" she drew a shaky breath, as she'd never said it aloud before, "- sometimes I look at you and see all of the things I missed.

"But Henry, as much as I understood it as her daughter, and even understood it as your mom, it doesn't mean it didn't hurt to hear my mom tell me she wanted a do-over. And as someone who's spent her whole life wondering why my family didn't want me, to know how that they DID but I still wasn't enough… it just felt like they wanted a replacement." Her voice was small now, maybe smaller than Henry had ever heard her, outside of that first talk they'd had at his castle when they'd barely known each other.

"I'm sorry Mom," he said, as he snuggled closer, wondering but not voicing, _But what does this have to do with me?_

She wiped a stray tear away and buried another kiss into his hair. "I just need you to know that you're amazing and I could never replace you – no matter what I missed – I'd never WANT to replace you. I never saw myself as a mom until you gave me no other choice and I wouldn't trade it for the world."

"I know," he said, in his wise-beyond-his-years way. "I know, Mom. You saved me with true love's kiss, remember?"

She laughed. "I could never forget it."

His brow furrowed. "But what brings this up now?"

"Hmm?"

"Neverland was a long time ago. Why are you asking me this now? What else is on your mind?"

She marveled at how well the child knew her – it was a little frightening, really. She took another deep breath then sighed, wondering how to broach the subject in an appropriate manner.

"Your Dad-"

"What did he do?" Henry's eyes narrowed, his adoration of his father overshadowed temporarily by protectiveness for his mother. She laughed before she continued.

"He didn't DO anything, Henry. I was going to say, your Dad asked me a question, the other night, in the car. About – about if I'd ever seen myself with kids." She smiled wryly. "I think he might want another go at it one of these days."

"Do you?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "I don't know if I ever wanted a go at it in the first place," she shot him a half-smile and gave him a playful shove with her shoulder. "It has never been optional for me."

"Sorry," Henry said, his gaze dropping.

"Hey! Hey, do NOT apologize. In a lifetime of decisions that have been made for me, you are the BEST decision I never got to make. Henry, I am so thankful for you, every day."

He smiled shyly, looking up at her. "You're welcome?"

She laughed, the kisses being pressed into his hair now becoming redundant. "What I DO know is that before I could ever contemplate it, I needed to talk to you. I never want you to feel the way I did in that cave. I need for you to know that no matter what, no one could ever take your place in my heart."

"I know, Mom," he said again. "Besides… I think having a little brother or sister would be awesome. You shouldn't even need to ask, you should already know that!"

Emma shrugged. "It's never come up, I didn't know."

"I didn't know it COULD come up," Henry said, honestly. "You and Dad JUST got back together."

"I'm not even sure we're fully 'together,' Henry."

He shrugged. "But you will be," he said, finishing her statement with a smile. He contemplated for a moment more before continuing. "Plus… if I can have two Moms, and a Dad, and love you all so much – why can't you have two kids and love us all the same?"

Emma shook her head, pondering again how wise her child was. "That's an excellent point," she said softly, more to the air – or herself – than to Henry. "C'mere," she finished, wrapping her too-quickly-growing little boy into a hug. "How did I get so lucky to have such an awesome kid?"

He shrugged again. "I guess that's what happens when you mix up Snow White and Prince Charming and half of the Enchanted Forest… and true love…" he grinned at his Mom, unable to resist teasing her about the label he'd long known would apply to his parents.

"Shut up!" she replied in jest, as she shoved him over onto the bed. "How long have you been wanting to do that."

"Since we found him in Manhattan?" he laughed. Undeterred by his mother's scowl, he continued. "Oh, come ON Mom – it was so obvious even _Mr. Gold_ knew it was true."

She rolled her eyes then, and gave him a swat as she stood. "Back to your book, kiddo. I think that's enough heavy conversation for one evening."

"K," he replied, as he rolled into his favored reading position and grabbed the book. Emma walked to the door, then turned back with her hand still on the doorknob, watching as he descended back into the adventures of the Murray family.

"Love you, Henry."

"Love you too, Mom," he replied, shooting a warm smile over his shoulder as she exited the room.

She walked out to the living room, where Neal sat on the couch mindlessly watching some sporting event on TV. She plopped down next to him and sighed. "There is literally no way to top that," she mused, tilting her head in the direction of Henry's room.

"Top what?" he replied as he looked at her with a puzzled look on his face, unaware of the just-had conversation of the rest of his family.

"Henry," she said, smiling gently before laying her head back on the couch and closing her eyes.

Feeling like he was on the outside of an inside joke, Neal raised an eyebrow before shaking his head and replying with, "Yep, he's pretty cool," he replied. "Is he down for the count?"

"Nah, he's still reading. He'll be up for a while yet. He's loving those books you got him."

"Hopefully he's got enough to last him for the trip home."

"I'm sure he'll be fine," she said with a smile. "He'll just re-read them if he runs out. Or pester us with invasive questions about our past."

Neal laughed. "He does have a knack for that." Rising to stand, he continued. "I'm gonna head in and say goodnight to him."

"'Kay," she answered. "Meet you out back?"

"Sure," he answered.

A few minutes later, he emerged out the sliding door, two bottles in hand, as had become their habit throughout the week. He cracked a smile upon seeing her sitting cross legged on the lawn chair, already halfway through a bottle - though it faded a bit as he realized she was staring blankly past the scrub into the distance.

"Guess you didn't need me to bring you one," he ribbed her, passing the drink over anyways.

"Nah, I'll take that one too," she said, sitting it on the table between them.

"Extra thirsty?"

"Something like that." There was silence for a moment, until she continued her statement. "I've been thinking about what you said last night."

"Okay?"

"Just about... how I'm so afraid to try because I can't handle losing everything again. But everything I've ever wanted, all the things I've longed for my whole life, are within my grasp. I have my kid back, my parents, the opportunity to have you back in my life... All the stuff that's caused me to push everything away for the last decade, it's mine if I want it. For once, it's up to me. I just have to take hold of those things, and if I don't, there's no one to blame except myself." She blew out a long breath, picking absentmindedly at the label on her beer before she spoke again. "So I think I need to give it a try, with us. I need to, even if I don't want to," she explained, truly hoping he would understand her meaning even as the words were lacking.

"Emma," he started, "you need to give yourself permission to be happy."

She attempted a smile, largely unsuccessful. "It's been a long time since I've been truly happy."

"Portland?"

"Yeah."

"You can be happy again. You deserve it."

"It's just that..."

"No. It's just that nothing."

She sighed. "You really think?"

"I do. I know the last couple of years have been insane for you - trust me, I know - but there's happiness to be had in it. Your parents, my dad and Belle, hell, even Regina all seem to have figured it out. It doesn't mean it'll all be perfect, and you'll probably have to work for it, but Emma, you have to let yourself. You'll never be happy if you're always looking over your shoulder."

"Yeah," she replied. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"I'd like to be happy again... for the best part of my life to be the present, not some bittersweet memories from a lifetime ago. So all right. Why not."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm sure."

He was unable to suppress his grin. "All right then. That's settled... now what?"

"There's a 7-11 on the corner..."

This elicited a real, genuine laugh from him, which in turn got an honest smile out of Emma. "Man, I love you," he replied, causing her smile to tint with a bit of shyness. "And I hope, wherever this leads, that you never forget that."

"I won't," she replied, sincerity evident in her voice. "Now I guess we just... continue on with how we've been, just a little... closer."

"What should we tell Henry?"

"He's more than a little observant. I don't think we need to tell him anything, he'll figure it out."

She went back to staring into the darkness, leaving Neal to wonder what scenario she was cooking up to panic about. To his surprise, she instead stood and walked to where he was seated, gently patting his legs as a request to move them aside. He did, and she sat next to them on the bench, facing him, silent for a long moment. Finally the corners of her mouth turned up in a slight smile and she came forth with the thought she'd been rolling around in her mind. "I love you too," she said simply. "I know we've kinda been hedging around that for the last month but... I really, truly do."

He dropped his feet off the bench as he slid forward on his seat, scooting such that his knees were next to hers. Almost involuntarily, they came together for their first true kiss in what seemed like an eternity.

They broke apart and a small smile crept onto her face. "It's been way too long since we did that," she said and they met in the middle again, a bit more leisurely this time. His hands covered hers and as they broke apart for the second time, he gently tugged her crosswise onto his lap. She laid her head on his shoulder and took a minute just to concentrate on the rise and fall of his chest, relishing the fact that they'd earned the right to be back here, together, like this.

He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead as his hand rubbed circles on her back. After a few minutes, her breath grew steady on the side of his neck, leading him to wonder if she'd drifted off.

"Em?" he said softly.

"Hmm?" Her eyes opened, finding him staring at the stars in the clear Florida sky. She craned her neck to follow his gaze, enjoying the calm, quiet beauty of the evening.

"You fallin' asleep on me?"

"No," she said, and he could feel the smile on her face. "Just thinking."

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"That all I'm worth to you?"

"You can name your price, if you'd like."

She let out a soft, contented sigh, warm on his skin as she settled herself to gaze skyward. "Remember that time we danced out under the stars?"

"After we saw those kids on their way to the prom?" He felt her head bob on his shoulder. "Of course. You'd never been to a dance... I wanted to fix that for you."

"City park in the moonlight with the car radio beat a stuffy gym with a bad DJ any day."

"That night was gorgeous. _You_ were gorgeous. Little did I know I was dancing with a princess."

"You made me feel like a princess."

He snorted. "Hardly. My horse-and-carriage was far from gold-gilded."

"I dunno… it was yellow, close enough..." she said with a smile. Sitting up, she swung her legs off of his lap and pulled to a stand, tugging on his hand. "C'mere."

"What now?" he replied as he moved to his feet.

"Dance with me," she requested simply, taking a half-step towards him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

"There's no music," he protested, only to be met by her shrug.

"Doesn't matter."

He slid an arm around her back, finding her head on his shoulder once again as they gently swayed back and forth. "Who are you, and what have you done with my Emma?"

That earned him a smack on the back of the head as she snaked her other arm around his neck. "This is me trying to be happy and in the moment. Don't ruin it."

"I like you happy. It's been a long time since I've seen you happy, Em."

She pulled back and locked gazes with him, sending him a small smile. "I'm happy now."

"I'm gonna do my damnedest to keep it that way."

"Me, too," she replied, curling back into his embrace. "That goes both ways, you know. It shouldn't just be you bending all the time." He began to protest and she tilted her head to look up at him again. "You sell yourself short, you know that?"

"What?"

"Like you're not good enough, like you should always be sacrificing to make sure everyone around you is okay. You deserve to be happy, too."

"I'm happy just knowing I've got you and Henry."

Another smile. "We're not going anywhere." She pulled out of his embrace and grabbed a hand. "Speaking of the kid, we should get inside. We've got a long drive tomorrow."

"Yeah," he replied. "I'll grab my things and-"

"Neal," she interrupted, "You don't need to sleep on the couch tonight."

"Are you sure?" he asked, following her down the short hallway, whispering so as not to wake Henry. "I don't want to make you-"

"Neal." she replied firmly. "You _really_ don't need to sleep on the couch tonight. Really."

He wasn't stupid enough to object a second time.


End file.
